


Them Troublemakers

by AnonBeMe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clarke has a thing for women in suspenders... and ties... and Lexa finds dresses very convenient, ClexaWeek2017, ClexaWeek2017 Free Day, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Gymowner!Lexa, Lexa's smirky half smile vs. Clarke's raspy voice, Minor Characters are unnamed in tags because of high spoiler alert, Non-Explicit Sex, Singer!Clarke, SuperBoy and SuperGirl against the world, SuperPancakes are the best, The Tickle Monster doesn't stand a chance, Who wants to see Clarke stage diving?, flirty texting and post-workout selfies, single-parent!Lexa, vet!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 108,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonBeMe/pseuds/AnonBeMe
Summary: "...you really don't want to tell him that you can't take your eyes off the lead singer, that her raspy voice echoes in your bones and her adorable dimples make your knees wobble. You don't want to tell him because you're not ready to be with anyone. Not yet."ORThe AU in which Lexa is a single-parent widow, Clarke is running from her past and together they’re terrible at taking things slow.--(I may be adding more characters and tags as we go)





	1. Troublemakers

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just start this by saying thank you to whoever arranged for **ClexaWeek2017** to happen. I can't wait to dig into all the stories that have been posted this past week.  
>  For now, though, this first chapter of Them Troublemakers is my contribution to **FREE DAY.**
> 
> The story is in second POV and I'll be telling it through most of the characters. This chapter is more or less the same span of time told first through Lexa, and then through Clarke, because I want you to get to know them as individuals (what better way than to see them react to the same experience). 
> 
> I want the story to speak for itself, so I won't say much else. So read this and we'll talk after :)  
> I hope you like it.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. Kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing this chapter  <3

#### LEXA

"Who's winning?" He asks as he takes a stand next to you.

"Mh?" You can't give him your full attention, you're distracted. 

"Someone caught your eye, I can tell. Who is it?" 

You cast a sideways glance at Bellamy who's searching the crowd of drunk dancing idiots in front of you, a concentrated look on his face. Your answer is non-responsive but it speaks volumes. You know that. Bellamy knows that. 

"Come on, Lex," Bellamy pushes. "I'm bored, let me be your wingman."

You snort. You don't need a wingman and Bellamy knows it. Bellamy doesn't need one either. He's kind of a jack-ass, pretty arrogant and quite the womanizer, but he's your best friend. The women love him and so do you, but of completely different reasons. He's your rock. It's simple as that. While the women love his cocky charm and his warm brown eyes, you love him because you owe him your life.

"Just enjoying the music, Bell." You hope you sound convincing because you _really_ don't want to tell him that you can't take your eyes off the lead singer, that her raspy voice echoes in your bones and her adorable dimples make your knees wobble. You don't want to tell him because you're not ready to be with anyone. Not yet. 

"Is it the red dress?"

"No."

"Tank top and tattoos?"

"No."

"Crazy dance moves girl over there?" Bellamy grins. 

You chuckle because yeah, she is kind of crazy and _hell no, definitely not her_. 

"Lex." He nudges you shoulder to shoulder. 

"Bell." You dismiss him. 

"Alright, suit yourself. Their new lead singer is hot, though," he says, and you can't tell for sure if he says it because you weren't convincing at all and he _knows_ or if he's planning his move once she gets off the stage. The latter is something you're not comfortable with so you change the subject. 

"I'm getting another beer, need anything?" 

"No I'm good."

It's Octavia's band and they're good – like, really good. It's funky and sexy and dirty. Dirty as in raw and edgy... not the... other kind. Well, maybe a little. 

Octavia is a badass drummer, Raven is so damn sleek with the bass riffs and you've always been a fan of Lincoln's skilled guitar solos. You haven't seen them perform in a long time. You've been busy sulking around and using your son as an excuse. You wanted to stay home this time too, but Bellamy begged you to go and when you said no he played the sister card. You felt compelled to say yes then because you kind of owe her your life, too. 

The bass is vibrating in your gut and that voice, _that voice_ is sucking out all of your self control, leaving you brainwashed and at her mercy. That's how you find yourself taking a seat by the bar, that beer you needed a minute ago long forgotten. Because you can't help yourself, because her voice dictates it. 

"We are The Fever! You guys have been wonderful, thank you! We have one last song for you tonight, so make sure it counts! Let me see THOSE. HANDS. UP!"

The lead singer seduces her audience with a wide grin while Octavia pumps out another tight beat, dictating the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies to pump their hands in the air. You won't admit it, but she seduces you too, with the rawness of her voice and the fire in her eyes and the energy that bounces off her body. You admire how she owns the stage, how she gives everything for her audience, selflessly. It settles in your body like a thunderstorm out of control.

But you won't admit it. 

As the last beat, the last strum of strings, and the last high note held fades out along with the stage light, the crowd erupts in excited _wooh’s_ carried through the air in waves. A DJ takes over for the rest of the night and you're brought back to reality when Bellamy wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

"Bartender, kind sir! Two beers, please!" He calls out. You sigh heavily, you can see the smirk on his face before you even look at him. "Yep, the lead singer," he exclaims victoriously and your heart breaks into a million pieces right there and you don't know why. 

Octavia is your savior. She jumps onto Bellamy's back out of nowhere and yells "THAT WAS FRICKING AWESOME!" while throwing one fist high in the air and as if on cue Bellamy takes on his role as the proud big brother. This is another reason why you love him. He's a protector of the important people in his life which counts Octavia, Mama Blake, you, and Samuel. 

"That it was, O! That it was!" He roars. 

"Ooh, Lex! You're here!" Octavia slides off her brother's back and pulls you into a hug and for a moment you don't regret coming, you regret having gone so long without seeing her.

"The new members suit the band, O. I need a signed copy of your first album," you grin, Octavia matches it and tops it with that Blake Arrogance that both she and Bellamy carries around like an emblem. 

"How's Sam?" She asks. 

"He's good. He misses his Auntie O," you tell her because you know it will melt her heart enough to distract her, because you don't want to tell her that you almost didn't come tonight because you almost couldn't leave him. 

"Tell him Auntie O misses him too and that I'm taking him out for ice cream very soon," Octavia smiles. 

"That would make his day," you smile back. 

"The others got a table over there, come meet the new guys," Octavia says, pulling, you and Bellamy in the direction she just pointed. 

When you reach the table, Bellamy winks at you before taking a seat next to the new keys guy pulling Octavia down next to him. It leaves an empty seat for you next to the new singer and you're taking a moment to plan your revenge for this setup, because it's _definitely_ a setup, even if it's just an impromptu one.

Raven and Lincoln reaches across the table to greet you with a fist bump and it's silly but that's how it is. They greet Samuel that way and so it has become your greeting with them as well. 

"I'm glad you decided to come, Lex," Lincoln says and Raven nods in agreement. 

"Lex, meet our new man on the keys, Monty," Octavia says. 

"Nice to meet you, Monty." You reach across Octavia and Bellamy to shake Monty's hand, he nods in return. 

"And that's Clarke, next to you," Bellamy grins and you want to be immature and throw one of the drinks coasters after him, preferably break his nose too, but that's not your style, so you bury the emotions running wild in your mind and turn to Clarke.

"Nice to meet you, Clarke. I'm Lexa." Her hand is soft against yours and her eyes are smiling just a bit brighter than anyone else's as she says, "the pleasure is all mine, Lexa." Her eyes sort of twinkle, so you give her your signature half smile, half cocky smirk because you can't help yourself. You hold on to her hand maybe just a little longer than necessary and she may hold your gaze a little longer than necessary, too. 

She grins and lets go of your hand saying, "You're trouble. I can tell." Honestly, you don't care what she says because her voice is husky and you would listen to anything she tells you if she spoke all of it like that – better yet if she were to sing it to you. 

"I am no such thing, Clarke," you say in the most sincere voice you can muster and you mean it, but only a little, because you _are_ trouble, just not the kind she insinuates. 

"They all say that, them troublemakers," Clarke winks. "O, that's our song!" she yells and as she rises from her seat, she runs her fingertips across your shoulder leaving a trail of burning fire in their place as she walks behind you to pull Octavia onto the dance floor. 

You don't know the song, but it takes only the briefest of glances towards the dance floor for it to settle in your bones. Clarke and Octavia are two sparkling stars lighting up the room with their confidence and their winning smiles, twirling each other around in the middle of the crowd.

"You dropped something." Bellamy takes a seat next to you. 

"Mh?" You're distracted again. 

"Your jaw. You dropped your jaw," he laughs, the kind of laughter he and Octavia adopts whenever you make a fool out of yourself.

"Did not," you say and if you could, you would have given him a threatening scowl, but your eyes are glued upon the two on the dance floor. Well, Clarke; only Clarke. 

"You should join them, have some fun. You deserve it," he says, having returned in protector mode. 

As if on cue, Clarke turns around, swaying her hips to the beat, pointing at you. She curls an index finger invitingly and mouths 'come here', Bellamy whispers 'go for it' in the back of your mind and you're not being rational right now because if you were you would turn down her offer, but you don't. 

You take a swig of you beer before walking towards her. She runs her hands up your arms to your shoulders and hooks an index finger under your suspenders pulling you behind her through the crowd that swallows you like a tsunami – whole, complete, mercilessly.

You watch your hands find their home on her swaying hips and you feel her arms wrap around your shoulders, around you neck. 

She's sensual and you're addicted.

The bass spurs you on and you pull her closer until her movements become yours and you can feel her breath against your lips. The mass of dancing people around you works like a shield from the real world and in this moment it's just you, Clarke, and the beat.

"You're good at this, troublemaker," Clarke whispers in your ear before turning around grabbing your hands still on her hips. She pulls your arms around her body as she grinds into you; it's dangerously satisfying and it leaves you utterly breathless.

"I told you, I'm no such thing." You smirk against her neck. 

Clarke turns in your arms and you're suddenly impossibly close. Too close. You're not moving and neither is Clarke; you're lost in her eyes. Her breath is hot against your lips, but you're still lost in her eyes. You don't mean to, it's like someone else is controlling your hand as it moves to brush a thumb along her jaw. 

It's too much. 

Her fingertips play with the baby curls on the back your neck while the other hand pulls softly at your suspenders again. Your heartbeat is louder than the music, your skin is on fire and she bites her lip. You’re lost in her eyes and you close the distance and kiss her. She pulls your neck, pulls you closer; her lips are soft and they taste like... raspberry... maybe and something explodes in the back of your mind. 

Time doesn't exist. 

Someone bumps into you and you break the kiss, already missing her lips on yours and it feels so wrong and so right and you can't deal with that right now. You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against hers. It's a last desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

"Trouble," you sigh. 

"You started it," she says. 

"I did no such thing," you smile. 

Then she laughs and it drowns out the music and your heartbeat, and it's the most vibrant sound you've ever heard. The realization shatters your already broken heart. A sudden wave of anxiety washes over you and you feel her hand cupping your clenched jaw. "Hey, you okay?" She wants to know, her voice muffled in the mix of loud club beats. It builds up a painful unrest inside you and it gets harder and harder to focus. 

The moving bodies around you suddenly feel like quicksand sucking you down, suffocating you and you cling to her shirt because that's all you can do.

"Lexa, talk to me," she says, but you've known this woman for less than an hour and you don't know how to tell her that you shouldn't have kissed her, that you and Samuel are still mourning the loss of Costia.

"I... I'm sorry," you hear yourself stutter. "I shouldn't have..." Your eyes are burning, your heart is aching and you need clean, fresh air in your lungs pronto, so you take a step back and move towards the exit of the bar.

There's a bus stop about half a mile down the street, you go there because you need regularity around you. Busses stop, people get off, people get on, and then the busses move on again. Even late at night. It's a constant and it soothes the entangled mess in your head. 

A couple of minutes later Bellamy's arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you into a sideways hug. You sit there matching your breath to his and counting seven bus routines before Bellamy says, "Let's go home."

 

//

 

Bellamy pays the babysitter while you go straight to Samuel's room. You stand on the threshold sneaking a peek inside before entering. His night light is still on; he looks safe and peaceful and it melts your heart. Bellamy walks behind you, squeezing your shoulder and whispers, "Come get me if you need anything. I'm going to bed." You send him on his way with a nod. 

You walk slowly into Samuel's room and take a seat on the edge of his bed. You run a soft hand across his hair, his tiny black curls. Everyone thinks he's Bellamy's kid, but the black curls are actually Costia's. He has her nose, too, and her dusty blue eyes. It's both a miracle and a curse because you miss her so damn much. Mostly it's a comfort, like she's still here, but sometimes it hurts because she’s _not_. 

Your eyes roam around his room and lands on the marks on the wall by his closet. The first thing Bellamy did when the two of you moved in was measuring Samuel against the wall. He then made a mark and wrote _Samuel, 4 years_ next to it, then he ruffled his hair and said, "This is your room now, buddy. For as long as you need it," and Samuel hugged his leg until his arms grew tired. You smile at the memory; Bellamy has been your rock for more than twenty years now and he's been Samuel's rock for almost two. 

Your eyes land on the dog tags hanging from his night lamp. Costia's dog tags. It was supposed to be her last run, but the only thing returning from war was her dog tags. You hung them in Samuel's room and pinned a photo of her on his pinboard because you want him to remember her, but he's so little and you don't know how that works. You were a little older when you lost your parents. You miss the idea of them more than _them_ because you don't remember much. You don't want that for Samuel.

He's wearing his Superman pj’s and it makes you smile because that kid loves his superhero more than anything. His light snoring tells you he's sleeping like a rock, so you place a soft kiss to his temple before tiptoeing out of his room.

Needing to wash off tonight's events, you take a shower. It doesn't work, unfortunately, and instead you let rivers of tears mingle with the streams of water from the shower head until you're too exhausted to hold up your body. 

You fall asleep the minute your head hits your pillow, images of you and Clarke on the dance floor running on repeat in your dreams.

__________

#### CLARKE

You're backstage waiting to be called onto stage. You're both excited and jittery at the same time, and when Raven punches your shoulder to get your attention you grin back at her. 

"Nervous?" She asks. 

"No." You respond biting your lip. "Yes." You correct yourself and she barks a laughter. 

You chance a look at your fellow band members – each and every one of them a new friend to you – all casually waiting for the same thing as you, the show to start. Tonight is your debut as the lead singer of _The Fever_ , something that never would've happened to you if you hadn't left everything behind and moved to Polis City four months ago. A door closes and a new one opens, as they say.

"You got this. Don't worry," Raven says confidently. 

The first time you met Raven she was hanging up flyers outside your apartment building as you came home from work. "Do you sing?" She asked you as you passed by her and yeah you did, so you told her. "Really? Wow, I was just kidding, but I'm glad I did. Maybe this is for you, then. Auditions this weekend." She'd said, a confident smile on her lips as she pointed to the flyer. 

You remember feeling a spark of excitement in your heart as you looked at the flyer and you've always been a person to follow your gut, so of course you went to the audition. You went and you dazzled them. You dazzled yourself too. It only took you two weeks of living in a new, scary city before finding a feeling of home. 

Today you're here, backstage, excited for the thrill of your debut, Raven is now one of your best friends. You’re the new lead singer of _The Fever_ and you share a grin with Raven because you're over the moon excited about this. 

... and a _little_ bit nervous. 

 

//

 

You enter the stage in darkness, and when Octavia calls out the beat and Raven throws in that catchy, deep baseline, the stage lights explode. You walk towards the edge of the stage pulling the mic stand along with you, letting it lean against your outer thigh. You want to face the audience, you want them under your skin and you want every single one of them out there to feel the intensity rippling through their veins, just like it does through yours; you want to share this with them. You lean your head back shaking your head, shaking your loose hair, shaking off the restlessness. 

You're ready. 

You're so ready for this. 

When you belt out the first phrase, you realize just how much you've missed being on a stage. You seek out the audience in front of you, sliding your gaze across them, checking if they're feeling what you're feeling. When the band breaks out at the end of the chorus and your high note hangs in the air, you have your answer. The crowd explodes, roars and raised arms, and you don't think you've ever felt more alive than this moment right here. When Raven and Lincoln backs up against you, their backs leaning on you as they push forward their aggressive play of strings, you almost cry. Almost. Because it's so damn beautiful and it's too much, perfectly too much. 

You don't want to leave the stage, you _never_ want to leave this stage, but you've played your last song and Octavia wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you with her. "A hell of a show, Clarke. Let's celebrate!" 

If it's possible to get high on a group hug amongst your new friends in a dimly lit backstage room right after your debut concert, well, then that's what you are. High on life. 

"Monty, what was that psychedelic shit in your solo?" Lincoln asks. 

"Just... improvising." Monty shrugs and you can't even begin to describe how much you admire this young man, who always underplays the things he does. He's a genius on keys. He's a mind-blowingly talented, classical pianist and he excels in everything he does, but he just shrugs it off because he doesn't want the honor that comes with it – he just wants to play. Classical piano by day, psychedelic shit by night. 

"It was damn beautiful!" Lincoln grins and Monty nods appreciatively at him. 

"Alright, let's get this party started. Go find us a table and I'll find Bell." Octavia wears the biggest grin of all as she runs out of your backstage room. Your cheeks are hurting from all the ridiculous smiling and you take a moment to calm your excited heart, just a little bit, before following the others to the bar. 

 

//

 

You've barely taken a seat yourself before Octavia and Bellamy join you. You've met Bellamy a few times already and he didn't leave the best first impression. He hit on you with his cocky smirk and his huge ego. He asked you out, but you laughed at him because he's the type you have bad experiences with. He said _'you can't blame me for trying'_ and took it like a man, you've got to give him that.

A woman sits down next to you, someone you haven't seen before. She wears a green button down tucked into her black jeans and a pair of suspenders, and that's always been a thing for you. Girls in suspenders. 

"And that's Clarke, next to you," you hear Bellamy say and the woman turns around to face you. 

_Oh._

"Nice to meet you, Clarke. I'm Lexa," she says and her eyes are _so green_ , her dark brown hair flows perfectly around her shoulders and when you shake her hand you can't help how your smile grows. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Lexa." you say and then she does this thing, this half smile, half smirk thing and usually you hate it when they do that because it means trouble but she's wearing those damn suspenders and it suits her, a complete package. 

"You're trouble, I can tell," you say, resisting the urge to bite your lip. You don't mean to, but your voice has this seductive edge to it and apparently it works on her because she flirts back.

"I am no such thing, Clarke," she says and she needs to stop saying your name like that because it's working, way more than it should. 

"They all say that, them troublemakers." You throw a wink at her and you really need to stop flirting back because you're not ready to be with anyone. Not yet. 

You pull Octavia onto the dance floor hoping a little physical distance between you and the suspenders might help you gain some self control, just a little bit, even though you know it won't. 

"I love this song!" Octavia screams and you agree by twirling her once. Dancing with Octavia is always fun. She's a whirlwind, an explosion of energy, and she's one of the few reasons you're in a good place right now, those few reasons being your band members; your new friends. 

"I need to pee!" Octavia screams over the music and she runs off. You turn around to go back to your seat, but Lexa is looking at you with _those eyes_ and you're not really done dancing, so you call for her to join you and she does. Apparently, your self control has taken a break tonight. 

She's a bit taller than you and she walks towards you with a confidence that makes your heart flutter. You pull her by the suspenders into the crowd and your skin burns where she places her hands on your hips. It's makes you dizzy, the right kind of dizzy, the kind that makes you steady yourself by sliding your arms around her neck. You're amazed by how easy it is, how natural it feels, like you've done this before. Dancing with Lexa, that is.

She pulls you closer and you move as one, swaying your hips to the rhythm. She's warm against you and you're addicted. 

"You're good at this, troublemaker," you whisper in her ear and you're normally a good girl, but she has lit a fire in you, so you turn your back to her and pull her arms around you and it makes you feel safe, safe enough to grind against her. 

"I told you. I'm no such thing," she replies and you can feel her smirk against your neck.

It may be because you're high on your concert debut, it may just be the fact that you have a thing for girls in suspenders. It may be both. It's certainly not your self control that makes you turn around to face her because you know it's a bad idea. 

Time stops. 

There's a shade of _something_ in her eyes, something that draws you in, it's like a punch to the gut and when she runs her thumb across your jaw, you move your hand to toy with the little hairs on her neck and pull at her suspenders because her eyes keep drawing you in. They keep pulling at you until she kisses you.

You have a thing for girls in suspenders. And you are absolutely defenseless against those that kiss you like this. Softly, intimately, desperately. Disappointment washes over you when she breaks the kiss, but you savor the intimacy of leaning your forehead against hers.

"Trouble," she sighs and something tells you she might be struggling with her self control, too, and you can't find it in you to feel sorry about it. 

"You started it," you say, but it's not an accusation because you would have kissed her if she hadn't. You've known her for less than an hour and you're already smitten. Irrevocably smitten. It's trouble indeed.

"I did no such thing," she smiles and yeah, she knows she's not innocent in this either. For some reason it makes you laugh, but then something changes. You don't know what, but Lexa's body grows tense against you instantly and her eyes lose focus. 

"Lexa, talk to me," you try, because you recognize the shade of panic in her eyes. 

"I... I'm sorry," she stutters. "I shouldn't have..." and your heart breaks into a million pieces as you watch her escape towards the exit and you don't know why. You contemplate running after her, but you don't know her and maybe it's better to leave her alone, so you walk back to the table. 

"Where's Lexa?" Bellamy asks. 

"Yeah.. She uh... I... She's outside?" You stutter and a wave a fear washes over you when Bellamy jumps from his chair to go after her.

"Are you okay, Clarke?" Octavia asks. 

"I don't know... She... I don't know what happened." You frown and it gives you a headache because it doesn't make sense. Or maybe it does. No. You don't know. 

You take a seat and everyone around you is silent, avoiding your eyes. 

"What? What are you not telling me?"

Octavia bites her lip. "Okay... She lost her wife almost two years ago and anything beyond that is not my story to tell... just know that she has some issues and–"

"Shit..." 

"What?" Octavia frowns.

"It's my fault..." Your head is spinning and this is too much information at once. Lexa lost her... wife? 

"What is?"

"Well, if I'd known I wouldn't have–"

"Clarke!" Octavia interrupts your panic ramble. "Calm down, hey, what's going on?" 

Octavia lays a hand on your forearm to calm you down and you meet her eyes. There's a concern there that abruptly stills the raging storm within your body, enough to make you say the next three words coherently. 

"She kissed me." 

"She kissed you?" Octavia's eyes widen in surprise and you forget you're panicking. 

"Yes. We were dancing and it got a little heated and she kissed me. I kissed her back and suddenly she panicked and ran off."

"Lexa kissed you?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Clarke, she hasn't been out in ages. This is her first night out since... I don't know. It's... Just don't worry, okay? Bellamy is good at fixing her. He'll find her and take care of her."

You nod, that's all you can do. 

"So... Lexa, huh?" Octavia teases. 

"Oh shush," you blush.


	2. Samuel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again.  
> It warms my heart to see so many Strangers On A Bench/Lovers In A Park readers in the comments section. I know this fic is a lot different, so thank you for giving it a chance.
> 
> You're all truly awesome!
> 
> In this AU, the apocalypse never happened, which means grounders and arkers aren't enemies and things such as Raven's busted leg never happens. Instead I'm looking at their personalities and trying to use that to build a story. I wanted to explore an AU where Lexa and Bellamy has this bromance thing going (because it has so much potential). First half of first chapter was originally meant as a one-shot and Clarke was meant as a guest at the bar, but the more I wrote, the more the story grew. It may be a bit unorthodox (canon-wise), nevertheless, I really like this story and these characters and I hope I'll convince you to like it too. 
> 
> This chapter (two) jumps a little from person to person. Some chapters will do that, some chapters will only be Clarke and Lexa.
> 
> I promise, I won't babble on like this for every chapter; I just wanted to give you the introduction I didn't want to pester you with in chapter one :) 
> 
> Do you have questions of any sort, don't hesitate to ask them. Here, twitter, tumblr... (links in bio). 
> 
> So, are you ready? It's time to meet Samuel <3
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. Kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing this chapter  <3

#### LEXA

You wake up when a tiny body crawls into your bed and snuggles close to you. It's familiar, and a warmth instantly spreads from your heart and through your veins, gently tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

"Wake up, mama," he whispers. 

"No. Sleep," you grumble as you tug him closer. 

"We made breakfast," he ignores your demand. 

"Breakfast?" You open one eye and look at him for the first time this morning. He looks so much like Costia when he looks at you with eyes full of anticipation. Costia was the same, always ready for the next adventure. 

"Yes, mama. Pancakes!" His voice grows from a whisper to excitement. That kid loves pancakes almost as much as his superhero. 

"Pancakes, huh? I can't say no to pancakes," you tell him. 

"Me either," he grins and you almost forget the unrest that has been your constant companion since last night. 

Almost. 

"Okay. Tell uncle Bellamy that I need five more minutes and then I'll join you. Can you do that?"

"Uh, yes."

You smother him with kisses until he squirms, laughing uncontrollably, and then you let him escape from the bed pretending he won the fight. 

"I love you, Sam," you say and he stops in the doorway to say, "love you too, Mama," before he runs back to Bellamy and the pancakes. 

You take your five minutes and maybe a few more than that to close your eyes and pull in deep, calming breaths. Yesterday was a tough one. You kissed Clarke. You flirted, you danced with her, you kissed her, and then you panicked and left her alone on the dance floor. You feel ashamed. You feel like a coward. You feel a lot of things you can't name right now, and you don't know how to deal with it so you push it out of your mind. For now. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you get out of bed, the floorboards are cold against your feet. You stop in front of your pinboard to look at the photo of you, Costia, and Samuel. It's from your last trip to the beach before she went on her final run. You run a finger down the silver chain next to it, the one that holds your wedding ring, and you let yourself mourn her for a moment. 

"I need pancakes," you speak into the void, pep-talking yourself into joining Bellamy and Samuel in the kitchen.

__________

#### BELLAMY

There's no doubt that Lexa had a rough night, so you let her sleep in. You sneak into Samuel's room and softly rub circles on his back until he wakes up.

"Hey buddy. Wanna help me make pancakes for Mama?" You never pictured yourself settling down and have kids, but this kid does something to you and it's not just because he's your nephew. He's a truly great kid, a very special kid. Your hand is splayed across most of his back and you're perplexed that this little person can have such a big impact on you. You love him to bits and pieces and you're humbled by the fact that Lexa wants to stay here with you. 

"Pancakes?" Samuel yawns, his tiny little freckles scrunched together across the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. Wanna help?"

"Okay."

"Okay. Mama is tired, so we have to be quiet until the pancakes are done. Okay?"

"Okay, uncle Bellamy," he yawns again. 

"Come on, SuperBoy. Let's get working." You pull the sheets off of him in one swift motion and he lies there grinning at his nickname. It works every time. You kneel by his bed, "Jump on," you say. He does, and then you carry him out of the room on your back, his skinny arms around your neck.

"First pee, then pancakes. Deal?" You tell him, stopping by the bathroom first. 

"Deal, uncle Bellamy," he stumbles over the syllables clumsily, making you smile. 

The two of you spend the next hour in the kitchen preparing pancakes. Everything takes longer when he's helping and he almost always drops an egg on the floor, but it's your thing, pancake mornings. Like taking him for ice cream is Octavia's thing. Like telling the both of you that you're spoiling him rotten is Lexa's thing. 

When the pancakes are almost done, you tell him to go wake up Lexa. Fifteen minutes later, you're all seated in the big eat-in kitchen of your apartment and it feels disturbingly domestic, but you'd do anything for your people if it means they feel safe.

__________

#### SAMUEL

You love pancakes. Uncle Bellamy makes the best pancakes. He makes smiley faces with the syrup and sometimes he makes a Superman sign and says _'SuperPancakes for SuperBoy'_ and it's the best.

You want to fly like Superman because if you could fly you would visit Mom in heaven. You want to tell her you miss her and she needs to come home. You want to tell her that Mama is sad and needs her to come home, too. You also want to fly because it's cool. Then you could make loops in the air and fly up to the moon and the stars. Mama says you can't walk on the sun because it's too hot, but you can walk on the moon and–

"Earth to Sam?" Mama calls for you.

"Mh?" You look at Mama and she's smiling like someone said something funny. 

"Did you have fun last night?" 

"Uh, yes. Luna made chicken nuggets and we watched cartoons." Luna is cool. She walks around like a T-rex and growls and tickles you when she catches you.

"That's great, Sam," she says and ruffles your hair. "You know, I talked to Auntie O last night. She said she'll come pick you up for ice cream soon. Is that something you want to do?"

"Uh, YES!" Auntie O is the best. She always takes you to the ice cream man in the park and then you play soccer or go to the playground. "Now?" 

"Not now. Soon. We can call her later and make plans?" 

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Mama?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Can we call her now?" You don't know why but both Mama and Uncle Bellamy are laughing now, but you just want to call Auntie O so you can get ice cream with her. 

"She's sleeping right now, Sam. Later. I promise." she says. 

"Pinky swear?"

"Yes, pinky swear." She holds out her pinky and you hook yours in hers and it's a deal.

__________

#### LEXA

You just put Samuel to sleep and plunks down onto the couch next to Bellamy with a tired huff. You run the palm of your hands down your face, closing your eyes behind them, and you sit like that trying to ground yourself amidst all of the chaos that is running wild in your mind until Bellamy throws one of the small cushions at you. You're too tired to hit him back, so you ignore him.

"Lame," he sighs.

You don't answer back, you don't even smirk. You don't have the strength.

"Wanna talk about it?" He walks on the edges of a wildfire and he knows it. 

"That kid has too much energy. I feel so old by the end of the day," you ricochet his bullet.  
A deep calm chuckle rumbles in Bellamy's chest and it feels annoyingly comforting. You want to be mad at the world, scream at someone or break something because the world is too damn demanding and unjustifiably unfair and there he is, calming you down.

"Lex." Damn it, he knows you too well. 

"Bell," you warn him. 

"Fine. Be like that," he says, throwing his arm over the back of the couch behind you and you slide into his comfort. He's not angry, not disappointed. He just knows that you will crack eventually and what's worse is, you know it too. 

"Why are you home on a fine Saturday night?" You change the topic. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, and it's so typically him to be a selfish prick when he picks up ladies, but he sacrifices himself a hundred percent when it comes to you and Samuel. 

"I'm fine, Bell. You should go out and have fun."

"Not tonight." 

"Why are you watching cartoons?" You squint at the TV screen. 

"The remote is all the way over there," he says, nudging his head towards the bookshelf. "Your kid has too much energy," he explains, and you agree with a subtle smile. 

The two of you sit and watch cartoons until Bellamy says, "Okay. You get the remote and I tell you which channel to switch to."

"I kissed her," you blurt out totally not meaning to. 

"Clarke?" He looks at you, you nod, and then a laughter explodes from his body. "Wait, you kissed her and then ran away? I thought you had more game than that." He continues laughing and it's too much, it's humiliating and it's making you angry all at once, so you rise from the couch to walk away. 

"No. Lex. I'm sorry, sit down. I'll be nice," he says pulling you back into your seat, and you let him because he's back to genuine Bellamy who takes care of his people. You sigh because it's the closest you're able to get expressing _something_ without actually using your words.

"You kissed Clarke, go on," he nudges you. 

"I kissed Clarke... and I ran away," you say, as if it was the last missing piece to a hundred year old puzzle yet to be solved. 

"Was it that bad?" He teases.

"It was that good," you explain, and you look at the ceiling because then you won't look at Bellamy. Maybe _just maybe_ it will stop the tears from spilling. 

"So...?"

"I panicked. It was... I... Because Costia... And Clarke..." You choke on the air that feels frozen in your lungs, and you bend forward leaning your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands squeezing your eyes shut, clenching your jaw. All of it to stop the emotions from overtaking you. 

"Hey, Lex, it's okay." Bellamy says, and he squeezes your shoulder because he knows that hugging you right now makes things worse. It's like a twisted kind of claustrophobia. Physical contact always calms you except for the times you're emotionally overwhelmed, then it's the exact opposite. "It's okay. You'll get through this. We'll get through this," he says. 

You nod because he's right and you believe him. 

"It's so hard, Bell."

"You're not alone, Lex." 

"I know." 

"You have me and SuperBoy to save the day." His voice is laced with that sad smile you know too well what looks like without actually looking at him. 

"I don't deserve it." 

"Yes you do."

You shake your head. "For a few minutes on that dance floor I felt alive, Bell. For the first time since... and it made me sick because it's almost like I cheated on her."

"I'm sorry I pressured you," Bellamy sighs and you hate that he takes the blame because it was your choice. You were dancing with Clarke and she looked at you _like that_ , and you kissed her because you wanted to; not because someone pressured you. Certainly not Bellamy. 

"Don't, Bell. This is on me. I wanted to kiss her. I just... it... I'm not ready..."

"Okay." 

You sit in your living room with your heart torn in pieces to the soundtrack of some stupid cartoon song blaring from the TV and Bellamy squeezes your shoulder one more time.

"Thank you," you whisper. 

"I'm proud of you."

"Please turn off the cartoon?" You whine. 

He sighs tiredly. "Your kid has too much energy, Lex," he says, as if that's a perfectly good reason as to why it should be _you_ fetching the remote.

__________

#### CLARKE

There's something oddly disturbing about four adults sitting at a picnic table on a playground. Four adults and no children, that is. Of course, some might argue that you're acting like children sometimes – well, most of the time – but that still doesn't explain why you're here. 

On this beautiful sunny Sunday you were hanging out at Raven's place when Octavia called and told the both of you to meet her and Lincoln at the park. So you did. 

That's how you found yourself sitting at a picnic table on the playground in the park watching Raven and Octavia throwing grapes at each other while Lincoln is shaking his head at them. You’re grinning from ear to ear because it's ridiculously stupid and you love them all the more for it. 

"It sucks Monty couldn't come. Our coolness factor is dropping without him," Lincoln says lifting an eyebrow accusingly at his girlfriend.

"Oh shut up, Linc. I'm plenty cool." Octavia winks and throws a grape at him and he catches it with his mouth and grins smugly at his girlfriend receiving an eye roll in return. 

"So... tell me, why the playground?" You ask out in the open. 

"It's for Sam," Raven explains. "O always takes him here for ice cream and fun." 

"Who's Sam?" You ask, not remembering anyone having mentioned a Sam before. 

"Lexa's kid," Raven says at the same time as Octavia says, "My nephew." Both women look at you like you should know this.

"Wait... Lexa has a kid? Your nephew is Lexa's kid?" Because you _didn't_ know this. In fact, you're pretty sure that this little piece of information might've stopped you from flirting with Lexa, not because of the kid, but because it sounds complicated, too complicated for you to handle right now. You ran away from complicated, you're done with complicated. 

"I thought you knew? I'm sorry, I should have told you," she says, her eyes full of concern and a bucket load of guilt. This is so Octavia. She's generally a bit distracted, mostly driven by her crazy spontaneous ideas, which means she doesn't always know what's going on around her. She’s got a big heart and never causes trouble on purpose. That's why you always forgive her. 

"Rae, help me. What more haven't I told Clarke that she should know," Octavia pleads.

"Drummers... I swear!" Raven rolls her eyes and Octavia throws another grape at her. "Chill, O! Okay, Clarke... let's see... Lexa's parents died when she was a child, Octavia and Bellamy's mom adopted her, you know about her wife.... and her kid... mh, what else... Yeah, they're living at Bellamy's place." Raven counts on her fingers. "Everything else is not my story to tell."

"Oh okay..." You panic a little because you didn't know Lexa was coming today, and you're not ready for it to be awkward between you already... and she has a kid. 

"Don't worry, Clarke," Lincoln says. "Lexa is cool and Sam is such a sweet kid." He smiles at you and you love this guy for being such a softy, because it grounds you and you need it right now, more than the air you breathe. 

"Auntie O," a kid screams excitedly and you turn around to see Bellamy and Lexa walk towards you, a little black haired boy sitting on Lexa's shoulders. You meet Lexa's eyes across the distance of the playground and she smiles that half smile of hers and nods a soft greeting at you, and it makes you forget all your worries as you smile back at her.

__________

#### LEXA

Samuel woke you up this morning way too early because he was excited about his ice cream date with Octavia. He crawled onto your bed with his Superman t-shirt in his hand – the one Octavia gave him for Christmas – and he said, "Mama, wake up. We are going for ice cream with Auntie O," and you pulled him under your sheets because you weren't done sleeping. But that didn't last long because your kid has too much energy. 

The air smells of newly cut grass, the early afternoon sun kisses your skin, and Bellamy walks next to you whistling a tune you don't recognize while Samuel sits on your shoulders pretending he can fly. Your heart aches because you wish Costia was here to share it with you, but it doesn't stop you from smiling because it's perfect, well, as perfect as can be, because the ache in your heart has settled in your body as a persistent constant and it smears the perfect picture with a sticky substance you have yet to be able to shake off. Somewhere between Costia's death and now you've come to accept that it may never happen, so you've devoted your new life making sure that the destructive smear won't stick to your son too. That's why you make sure to give him experiences like this; ice cream with Auntie O. You want him to be able to look back on his childhood and remember the happy times, not the sadness his mom's death brought to him. 

"Do you think the ice cream man has chocolate ice cream, Mama?" Samuel sounds like he's been thinking about this for a while.

"He usually does," you assure him. 

"Do you think the ice cream man has banana ice cream?" He continues.

"Yes, but you don't like banana ice cream," you remind him and Bellamy chuckles next to you. 

"But it's Auntie O's favorite," he says, and it melts your heart that he needs to make sure that Octavia can get her favorite flavor too. It's another thing he got from Costia, his big heart. 

"Auntie O!" He screams as you turn around the corner, the excitement in his voice pierces your ear.

They're all here, the whole band except Monty, and you panic for a split second because the last time you saw Clarke you took off on her, and this could very well end up getting very awkward. But then you meet her eyes across the playground and she looks like the sun, so you greet her with a smile and a nod. It's subtle, but she smiles back at you and it awakens a hope in your heart that maybe this won't get awkward after all. 

"Down!" He orders you, getting jumpy and impatient from excitement on your shoulders. You lift him down onto the ground and watch him sprint as fast as he can on his wobbly legs towards Octavia's open arms. She meets him halfway with a "Hey buddy,” and lifts him up in her arms, spinning him around, and you can't help but grin because his giggling is so precious. 

"It's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's SUPERBOY!" Lincoln and Raven roars and then Samuel runs to greet them with their special fist bump greeting. 

You watch Samuel stop in front of Clarke and you realize she may not know about him and you're back to thinking this will get awkward. He looks at her and he blinks a few times before offering her a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Samuel," he says, and your heart melts a little more. He got the formality from you, despite not actually sharing any DNA.

"Hello Samuel, I'm Clarke," she says shaking his hand gently. 

"Like Superman?" His eyes widen. 

"Almost," Clarke grins.

"Cool," your kid gives Clarke a half smile. You don't know how he picked it up, but he got that from you too. He then turns to you and says, "Mama, can Clarke get ice cream with us?" 

"Of course, Sam, if she wants to." You smile at him and he grins back at you. You kneel next to him, putting both hands on his shoulders. "How about you go get ice cream with everyone else and I stay here with Clarke and keep our seats?"

"Okay," he says and runs off to hold Octavia's hand. 

As they disappear around the corner you take a seat next to Clarke. "Listen, Clarke... I'm sorry about the other night," you say, pushing pebbles around with the tip of your shoe. It's not something you do deliberately. In fact, you kind of wish you could stop doing it because you know it makes it obvious that you're nervous. 

"It's okay, Lexa," Clarke says softly. 

"No... No, it's not... I panicked..." You stumble over the words and cuts it off by clearing your throat, another sign of nervousness. 

"Octavia told me about your wife," she says, and you can feel her eyes on the side of your head. You don't know what to say, so you just sit there in this bubble of silence for a while hoping for a miracle, knowing too well it won't come. 

"My dad died last year," she then says and her voice is so full of pain that you instinctively seek her eyes. "I know what it does to your head, so you don't need to explain, okay?" 

She looks at you until her eyes start to water and you know how it feels when it forces you to drop your gaze, so you put your hand on hers on the bench hoping it gives her enough strength to fight it. 

"Can we start over?" She says. 

"I'd like that," you tell her. 

"Okay," she smiles and you can't help yourself when you give her one of your half smiles in return. "And you need to stop with the half smiles, Troublemaker," she winks at you, just a tiny subtle one, and your half smile turns into a grin. 

"You started it," you tell her and she starts laughing.

A calm silence washes over you and you realize your hand is still on top of Clarke's. You give it a squeeze before letting go. 

You hear Samuel laughing in the distance just before they appear around the corner. Everyone takes a seat around the picnic table, and it's one of those moments you wish won't end because there's a warmth in your heart and you've got your favorite people around you, and Samuel is over the moon about eating ice cream with his Auntie O. 

After Samuel finishes his ice cream he leans closer to you and whispers "Mama, will you help me find a flower?"

"Sure, why?" You ask, because you can't figure out what he needs it for. 

"It's a secret," and he grins like Bellamy when Bellamy is up to no good. 

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Instead of answering he pulls you towards the field of grass next to the playground. There's a patch of flowers and he points at a blue one, you don't know what it's called but you're sure Costia would've known.

"Do you think Clarke will like it?" he asks. 

"She would love it, Sam. Can I ask you why you want to give it to her?" You ruffle his hair, baffled that he likes Clarke so much that he wants to give her a flower. 

"Uncle Bellamy says you give flowers to pretty girls," he explains, and the serious tone in his voice makes you almost burst out in laughter, but you hold it in because this is obviously important to Samuel. Also, you might need to have a word with Bellamy about what he goes around teaching your son. 

"Okay. You want to pick it yourself?" 

Samuel nods firmly and kneels next to the flowers and picks the biggest one there is. 

"You got this? Or do you need my help?" You ask him, grinning a little. 

"No, I've got this," he says, still serious, his little determined nod that follows he got from you as well. 

You watch him walk up to Clarke and you follow a few steps behind him, your hands casually hung in your back pockets. You send an accusing look towards Bellamy who mouths a _'what?'_ back at you. You nod towards your kid with a blue flower in his hand that he wants to give to Clarke. 

"Clarke?" Samuel approaches her. 

"Oh. Yes, Sam?" She says. 

"This is for you." Samuel holds out the flower towards Clarke. 

"Wow! This is for me?" Clarke's eyes widen in surprise, maybe a little exaggerated, but you know it's a show for Samuel and all he sees is the surprised look, which you know makes his day. 

Samuel nods and Clarke sends you a lifted eyebrow and you feel the need to lift your hand in a defensive gesture to say _'this is not my doing'_ , and judging by the way Clarke smiles she doesn't believe you one bit. You don't blame her, though, all things considered. 

"Tell her why, Sam," you encourage him with a gentle voice. 

"Because you give flowers to pretty girls and it's blue like your eyes," he recites with that determined nod in the end. 

Clarke sends you a smirk and the rest of the group roars out a laugh while Bellamy proudly rises from his seat, his cocky smirk in place, as he gives Samuel a high five. 

"People don't believe me when I tell him he's not Bellamy's kid," you tell Clarke as you take your seat next to her. 

"Thank you, Sam. It's the prettiest flower I've ever seen." Clarke says and Samuel walks away with the proudest smile you've ever seen him wear. 

"Them troublemakers," Clarke sings under her breath and you give her that smirky half smile you didn't agree to stop doing. She sighs, shaking her head at you.

"Trouble indeed," you agree.


	3. Black Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's become quite an addiction of mine to read all your lovely comments :)  
> Just know that! 
> 
> I'm excited that you guys like Samuel this much (being an original character and all). It would kind of suck if you didn't. 
> 
> As for chapter three, let's see how they go on about starting over ;)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. Kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing this chapter  <3

#### CLARKE

Early Monday morning shifts at the coffee shop will never be your favorite thing; it's not that you don't like early mornings, it's just that you really don't like working in a coffee shop. 

When you moved here on a whim you had to take what you could get to survive and this town didn't have much else to offer. Not on a whim, at least. You're a vet and while you do appreciate the short encounters with your customers in the coffee shop, you can't deny that you prefer encounters with the animals a lot more. There's currently a position available at Polis Zoo – one you applied for last week – and you really, _really_ hope you get it because this coffee shop has become a waste of time really fast. Not to mention you miss working with animals. It's better than nothing, though, and it's without a doubt better than still being stuck in your old life in Arkadia. This job is a lifesaver, literally, a lifesaver.

The big clock on the wall says it's only 10:30 am which means the morning rush is over and there's a calm before the lunch break hour. A mind-numbingly boring calm before the lunch break hour. The monotone ding reaches your ear – indicating that a customer has walked in – and the routine you've been trained to do in your sleep starts all over. 

"Welcome to Grounders Coffee. What can I get you?" You say as you turn around to face the customer. Your eyes widen in surprise when they meet familiar green ones on the other side of the counter. If this isn't a pleasant surprise, you don't know what is.

"A smile, please, and can I get that to go?" Lexa says in a polite voice, her hands held behind her back, and that annoyingly adorable half smile of hers playing at the corner of her mouth. Your heart flutters just enough for it to be unignorable. You sigh, shaking your head at her, because it should not be this easy – but it is – and you feel your own smile spread on your lips.

"Sorry," you say, shrugging apologetically, "we're all out of smiles to go."

"Huh, what a shame", she says, dumbfounded and still in character. "Perhaps just a cup of coffee, then." A grin breaks on her face. "Black. To go."

"What's your name?" You feel stupid for asking, but your training manual says you have to do it and you never know when your boss is sneaking up on you. 

"Wow, you forgot my name already?" Lexa raises an eyebrow at you, teasingly. 

"Oh shush, no! The manual says I have to ask." 

"Ah, okay. Well, the name is Trobblemaker. That's t-r-o-double-b-e maker... not the other one. I told you, I am no such thing. Oh, and it ends with your number," she winks at you.

"You are so ridiculous," you tell her, but it's accompanied by the biggest grin your face has ever held, so it holds no threat. You start scribbling things on her cup to go: Trobblemaker, your number and a smiley face. 

"Just to be clear," Lexa says and clears her throat. "The number is because I don't know how to start over with people I can't contact. I like you and it's kind of scary, but right now I just need a friend and no expectations." You look back up to find her looking at you with a mixture of vulnerability and honesty you didn't know she was capable of. You resist the urge to go around the counter to hug her. "And if the flirting gets too much, please let me know?" She requests. 

"Of course. And it goes both ways. All of it," you tell her, nodding along. A friend and no expectations is exactly what you need right now, too. "One black coffee to go, coming right up," you wink at her, not a flirty wink, but one of those that are meant to lighten up the mood. 

You prepare the coffee for her and place it on the counter. "One black coffee to-go for a trobblemaker. Have a nice day and please come back to visit us again soon." You grin at her and she grins back before walking towards the exit. 

"Lexa?" You call after her, and she turns around to look at you. "Do you mind shooting me a text so I have your number too?" 

"What's your name? I have to ask..." She shrugs. 

"Clarke. That's C-l-a-r-k-e, as in Superman. Almost," you say, and she barks out a laughter clearly remembering yours and Samuel's introduction.

"One text to go coming right up, Clarke as in Superman, almost." She nods formally, a playful smile on her lips, before walking out the door and releasing another ding into the void of this empty morning coffee shop scene.

Your monotone Monday just got infinitely better.

__________

#### LINCOLN

Every time you walk through the doors of Ark Gym you're struck by an immense feeling of pride. This is your blood, sweat and tears; yours and Lexa's. The two of you own this place, this gym that you built from scratch. Well, not the building itself, but the company, the name, the reputation, all of it.

You teach a few spinning classes every week while Lexa usually deals with the administrative work. After Costia died, she decided to put in less hours for classes because she wanted to spend more time with Samuel. The only class she still teaches is Kids Gym every Tuesday and Thursday in the afternoon. The two of you do those together, and your primary focus is to let the kids have fun and learn to use their bodies right, in a safe environment. Tuesdays are five-to-seven year olds while Thursdays are eight-to-ten year olds, and it's one of the most life-affirming things you've ever been a part of. You suspect this to be why Lexa still holds onto it, too. 

Ark Gym has a handful of hardworking, talented employees to help the both of you run the place. It means that your gym is able to offer a wide range of classes as well as personal trainers; it also means your gym is one of the most acknowledged ones in the city. These employees of yours are damn fine people – all of them – if you could say so yourself.

"Hey Gus," you greet the big muscle man who's one of your best personal trainers. He looks like a brute – tattoos and a big beard on display – but he's a softie, softer than you even. "Has Lexa come in yet?"

"Oh hey, Linc. Yeah she's running errands, said she'll be back soon," his deep voice rumbles softly from his chest. 

"Alright, thanks. I'll be in the office if anyone needs me," you tell him. 

Monday's routine means going through your emails and checking up on supply orders for whatever you're running out of in the gym. Then you run a light workout routine before your first spinning class of the week. 

Today is quiet, so you pick up a couple of miniature plush basketballs and line them up to take target shots at the tiny basket hanging on the wall above the desk. You lift your arm in a ninety degree angle and take your shot. You score and claim your victory by throwing your arms up above your head. "He shoots, he scooores," you roar in a hushed voice, doing your best to imitate a sports commentator.

"Good to see you're working hard, Linc," Lexa says from the doorway, an amused look in her eyes and a cup of coffee in her hand. 

"Oh hey," you smile sheepishly at her. "It's a quiet morning. Is that coffee?" It's a peculiar thing because Lexa doesn't drink coffee. 

"Yeah, I went by Grounders to say hi to Clarke. I didn't know how to do so without buying something… so… It's black, want it?"

"Nah." You never liked the taste, besides, you’re more of a smoothie and green juices kind of guy.

"Yeah, thought so," she says. She leaves for a minute and comes back with the empty cup placing it on the bookshelf next to the desk. 

"Trobblemaker?" You ask. It sounds like there's an interesting story behind. 

"Long story," Lexa grins.

"You could've just gotten her number from me, you know," you tell her, because you recognize the number as Clarke's.

"I know. But where's the fun in that?" She argues.

"True. So... Clarke?" You prompt her, and she sighs, a deep heavy sigh full of hours of thinking and not getting anywhere. You don't blame her; you know what losing Costia did to her. You're pretty sure you'd be a much bigger mess if you ever lost Octavia. Lexa is strong, not just because she has to be for Samuel, but because it's in her blood; she just forgets sometimes.

"We both agree on taking a step back, start over and just be friends. I'm not ready for anything else. She said it goes both ways." Lexa stares at the empty Grounders cup nodding a few times, and you get the feeling she's still trying to convince herself that it's the right decision. 

"Is it supposed to sound like a struggle?" You shoot another miniature plush ball towards the basket on the wall. Both of you watch it go straight through the hoop, but you don't celebrate this one.

"No," she says defeatedly, "It does sound like a struggle, though, doesn't it..."

"I was never good at staying in the friend zone," you tell her, "but that doesn't mean it won't work for you." She looks at you like she's validating your words, and then she looks back at the cup. 

"Yeah..." She sighs again. 

"If you ever need to talk about it and Bellamy gets too cocky, I'm here," you offer.

"I know," she smiles. "So, can I join in on your routine today?" She asks. 

"Really? Yes, of course! Always." Training with you is another thing Lexa cut out of her schedule after Costia died. You want to make a comment about how Clarke entered her life, and now she wants to train with you again – which clearly can't be a coincidence – but you're afraid it's still too touchy a subject, so you drop it. 

"I'm rusty," she says. 

"I will make sure each and every fiber in your body hurts like hell tomorrow. Count on it, Lex!" You grin at her, wiggling your eyebrows. 

"That's what I'm afraid of," she chuckles and rises from her seat. "I need to go through a few things first. Can you give me an hour?"

"Sure. Meet me by the treadmills?" 

"Yep."

__________

#### OCTAVIA

You and Lincoln have a perfectly soundproofed rehearsal room slash recording studio in your basement which means the others usually hang out at your house.

Today is no exception. Raven has the day off and she likes to spend those locked up in your basement recording new material. She's a technical genius, that girl, and plays most instruments well enough to convince anyone that she's a prodigy. 

You love watching Raven work in the studio. You love what she creates, and if you were to make a guess, she probably produces eighty percent of all your band material in that studio. 

If it wasn't for the article you need to finish, you'd have joined her in the basement already. It's not a bad thing, in fact, you feel privileged. You love working as a music critic for the local newspaper because it means you spend a lot of time listening to music and going to concerts; they're mostly local bands. It also means you usually work from home, and that's something you won't ever take for granted. It means you can walk around in sweatpants flaunting your bed hair without anyone judging you and you're convinced your articles are much better because of it.

You consider yourself a creative mind and it's one of the things that makes you a great drummer. You consider yourself a hard working woman, too, and although you were never an A+ student like your brother, you know you're good at _this_. Music. Playing music, making music, writing about music, loving music.

It's well past lunch time when you finish your article about the local Polis Music Festival next month. You turn off your computer with a satisfied nod. Your stomach is growling, so you go to the kitchen to make a sandwich. 

The photo of you and Samuel on your refrigerator door always brings a smile to your lips. It's the photo of you lifting him up in the air, supporting his tiny body above your head, as he imitates flying like Superman – one outstretched arm in front of him and the other along his body. His tiny black curls are wild on his head, his happy smile wide on his face, and you remember feeling his body vibrate with laughter in your hands.

That kid. 

He's pure light, that kid. Having had front row tickets to most of Lexa's life and the things she's been through, you know that this kid is what makes her want to wake up every morning.

Mama Blake has always taught you and Bellamy the importance of sticking together in times of a crisis. You've known Lexa most of your life. Her parents were friends of the family, but you weren't old enough to remember them. Lexa and Bellamy are both twenty-nine years old and you're three years younger than them. Mama Blake adopted Lexa after her parents died, and as far as you know she's been your sister your whole life. You've been fighting like real sisters for as long as you can remember, and you've loved each other as sisters just as long.

You open the fridge to grab a bottle of water and the sandwich Lincoln made you before he went to work this morning. There's post-it stuck to the plate; it says ‘Eat me!’ and it makes you smile. You keep telling him that you're an independent woman who knows how to make her own damn lunch sandwiches, but he always replies with an _'I know. That's why I love you'_ , and then he kisses you and slaps your ass playfully as he walks by you, and you pretend to scold him, but he knows you like it – the attention – and that's why _you_ love _him_.

You bring your lunch to the basement to join Raven, and you find her lying flat on her back, eyes closed and her arms folded behind her head in the middle of the room. It's not the first time you've found her like this and it's also not the first time you tell her, "You know we put a couch in this room for this exact purpose, right?" You smile at her beforehand because you already know what Raven's going to say next. 

"I'm stuck and I need a new perspective." Raven is a little distracted by whatever thoughts she's having at the moment. 

Raven says lying on the floor helps her view things differently, and sometimes she climbs up the tree in your backyard with the same explanation. She says that physically viewing things from a different angle – from low points or high up – helps her inspiration along.

Admittedly, you tried it once. You were home alone practicing this particularly difficult drum break, and you got so frustrated that you almost jabbed a drum stick through the snare drum skin. Almost. So you tried Raven's trick lying on the floor. You tried with closed eyes and then with open eyes, and after staring at the ceiling for ten minutes you decided to go end your drum session in favor of taking your nephew out for ice cream. It worked for the better, because you nailed that drum break later that night. 

You take a bite of your sandwich and place it on the solid wooden coffee table by the couch. Instead of taking a seat on the big soft couch, you lie down next to Raven imitating her position. 

"How's that going?" You ask her.

"Well... Not so well, today, actually." She replies, but she doesn't sound defeated; quite the opposite, in fact. Raven has faith that her inspiration will hit her again sooner or later. _’Art can't be forced,’_ she always says, a hundred percent devoted to her music, which is something you really admire her for.

"I finished my article. I'm done for today, so if you need my drumming awesomeness for something, I'm all yours," you say cockily and Raven chuckles.

"Hey," Clarke greets you just having stepped inside the studio. Both you and Raven stay put on the floor. 

"Oh, hey Clarke. What's up?" You ask her, rolling over onto your stomach, elbows on the carpet and your hands supporting the weight of your head. You watch her shrug off your question, a look on her face you can't quite place the meaning of. You watch her throw herself onto the couch into a similar position as the one Raven spots on the floor next to you. You hear her sigh, and it's the kind of sigh you can't place the meaning of either. Finally, you watch a goofy smile appear on her face and you decide to join her on the couch; there's a story there you're dying to hear.

"Spill it," you grin at her as she bends her legs to make room for you on the couch. 

"Nothing to spill," she says, and you know that it isn't true because she doesn't even try to hide her goofy smile.

"It's written all over your face, Clarke, don't try to deny it."

She grins and you can't help but laugh at her. You've know Clarke for about three months now. You don't know much about her background story except that her dad died and that's why she moved here. At least that what she says. She doesn't talk much about her past and you get the feeling that there's more to the story than just the death of her dad. 

What you do know is that Clarke has a big heart, she's a great friend, she's funny, she's one hell of a singer and she fits perfectly into this family that is your band. It doesn't matter what her story is because you look out for family no matter how bad it is. 

Clarke's phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket. You didn't think it was possible but her grin just grew wider. "Claa-aarke," you sing, pouting like the drama queen you are, "Tell me."

Clarke rolls her eyes at you and she should know by now that it only spurs you on which you, again, prove by pulling Raven into your game of getting Clarke to spill the beans. 

"Rae, Clarke is keeping secrets from us. Can you believe it?" You grin devilishly at Clarke, your inner drama queen loving the situation. "She's grinning like a fool into her phone, Rae, and she doesn't want to tell us why."

"Keeping secrets? One must not keep secrets from us, Clarke," Raven says as she gets up off the floor. She grins at you the way only your partner in crime does as she takes one dramatic sneaky footstep after another towards Clarke on the couch.

"Raven, no!" Clarke's eyes widen because she knows what's about to happen. 

"Raven, yes!" You and Raven roar in unison as you pull Clarke's legs towards you and Raven starts to tickle her. Clarke does a miserable job holding onto her phone while frantically screaming "NO! RAVEN!!" You snatch it easily out of her grasp and the answer to Clarke's secrecy is something you could have told yourself. It's so obvious that you're kind of disappointed. It's a text from Lexa, a photo of Lexa and Lincoln, sweaty from a workout, Lexa with her arm around Lincoln's shoulder and both of them smirking and raising a cocky eyebrow. Clarke gives up fighting against Raven's death grip on her ribs as you read the message out loud. 

"Hello Clarke-like-Superman-almost. Here's a text as promised. As you can see, there's no trouble here and Lincoln agrees." The photo makes you laugh because those two together always means trouble. The good innocent kind, but still trouble. "Oh, this is priceless. Rae, you gotta see this photo." You smirk at Clarke who groans and buries her face into the cushions of the couch. 

Squeezing herself to a seat between you and Clarke, Raven takes a look at the photo. "Ooh there's definitely a story behind this. Clarke? What's the story, Clarke?" Raven’s teasing tone has you laughing so hard your stomach is hurting. 

Clarke grumbles something against the cushion before sitting up, and you know she's cursing at least one of you, but you don't care. Then she looks up with defeat in her eyes and says, "She came into the coffee shop this morning for a cup of coffee. That's all. There's no story." 

You share a grin with Raven. "No story, Clarke? Lexa doesn't drink coffee. There's _definitely_ a story," you tell her. 

"What?" Clarke says with a confused look on her face. 

"She doesn't drink coffee, Clarke," you repeat.

"Really? But she bought coffee..." Clarke says, and the confusion in her voice makes you smile. You know she's a little smitten with Lexa but you only now realize just how much. You haven't spoken to Lexa about it yet, but you know her too, and you saw it in her eyes yesterday on the playground; Lexa is smitten too. If you play your cards right you could totally interfere _a little_ without them ever finding out, right? Lexa introduced you to Lincoln, you're only paying back the favor, really. 

Deciding that there's no time like the present to _interfere a little_ , you hold Clarke's phone up for a selfie. "Hey, guys, move closer and say cheeese.” The photo is to kill for. You and Raven are two minds alike, both posing the same smirk and cocky eyebrow as Lexa and Lincoln while Clarke is... well, if looks could kill, you and Raven would've been ten feet under by now. 

"What are you doing?" Clarke asks. 

"I'm texting her back," you answer her like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

"Octavia! No!" 

You know she's a little mad at you because she used your full first name. But you know she'll come around; you pull shit like this on everyone all the time and they all come around... eventually. You're a patient person, well, not really, but you know how to have fun while waiting. 

"Oops, too late," you say sharing a grin with Raven as you hand over the phone. You watch Clarke's face change from panic to mortified, to blushing, to angry which makes both you and Raven laugh hard again. 

"I hate you!" She grumbles and you can tell she only means it a little, and that's fine with you.

Perfectly fine.

__________

#### LEXA

You and Lincoln just ended your workout routine, and a calm you haven't felt in a long time has settled in your bones. The two of you are sitting on the floor stretching your legs, catching your breath. 

"I can't feel my legs," you tell him. 

"I'm glad to be of service," he smiles. 

"I've missed this. I just realized that. I mean, I know I missed it but I didn't know exactly how much until now." You don't know how to tell Lincoln just how much this means to you – you can't really find the right words – but that's the thing with Lincoln; he knows. He's got a sixth sense about these things. 

"Does that mean you'll be my workout buddy again?" Lincoln looks at you with those cautious, caring eyes that are his trademark. 

"Depends how much this hurts tomorrow," you grin. He laughs and it feels a bit like coming home, and you realize that not only has your mind been missing this, but your body has too. It's like riding a bike; you never forget. Your body never forgot this routine of yours.

"Linc? Do a selfie with me? I promised Clarke to text her back so she has my number too."

"Uh, sure." Lincoln looks confused and curious all at once, and you smile all the way to your office as you go to get your phone. You put your arm around Lincoln's shoulders telling him to give you some trouble. Your double cocky smile is _just perfect_. 

"... as you can see, there's no trouble here and Lincoln agrees," you read out loud while texting. Lincoln laughs at your choice of words and you wink at him. 

"Thanks. I'm gonna hit the showers, I need to pick up Sam soon." And if you spend a little extra time daydreaming in the showers and wondering how Clarke will respond to your text, well, no one will ever know. Out of the showers again, you check your phone and find two messages from Clarke. 

**SuperGirl:**  
_[photo attached]_  
_If you're looking for trouble I know just the place ;)_

**SuperGirl:**  
_I'm sorry, please disregard that first comment. Octavia hijacked my phone._

You believe her because you know Octavia, and these little stunts are the very essence of that which Octavia's DNA is made up of. But that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun, too.

**You:**  
_Well, that's a shame. Here I thought you could hook me up?_

**SuperGirl:**  
_You don't need me for that. It looks like you and Linc got plenty to go around ;)_

**You:**  
_Whatever do you mean, Clarke? That was an innocent post-workout selfie._

**SuperGirl:**  
_I could smell the trouble reeking off you through the phone, Lexa. Trouble!_

**You:**  
_That was sweat, Clarke. Post-workout sweat :)_

**SuperGirl:**  
_Synonym for trouble ;)_

**You:**  
_Post-workout sweat does it for you? Good to know ;)_

**SuperGirl:**  
_Oh shush..._

You've been smirking, laughing and biting your lip all the way through these texts with Clarke, and Lincoln's voice echoes in the back of your mind – _'I was never good at staying in the friend zone'_ – and you want so badly to prove to him, yourself too, that you can do it, but right now in this very moment you're not entirely sure you'd bet money on it yourself. 

You want to keep texting her, maybe send her another selfie that hopefully prompts her to send you another one back. You feel lighter and you could easily explain this with you and Lincoln's workout session, but you know well enough it's only a little part of it; you know well enough that most of the credit goes to Clarke. 

You pocket your phone, allowing yourself to enjoy this feeling, just for a moment, before picking up Samuel.


	4. Monkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! Thank you for reading and commenting and all that <3
> 
> So, I think we're past the introductions now, which means we're moving on to building relations. I want to give killer introductions to my chapters but I can't without spoiling things, haha. So uh, just know that this is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you'll like it too.
> 
> I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I'm planning on weekly updates (Sundays) unless I get a terrible writer's block and my updates will catch up on the numbers I have drafted. I may up it to twice a week if I end up with a lot of chapters in the bag once I do write the last chapter.
> 
> Oh, and one last thing. If you're curious to see five songs on Lexa's iPod, you'll find the answer (as well as answers to other questions) right her on my [Tumblr ask tag page](https://anonbemetoo.tumblr.com/tagged/ask)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. And as always, plenty of kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing this chapter  <3  
> 

#### BELLAMY

You and Samuel are eating breakfast in the kitchen waiting for Lexa to join you. She's decided to take up running again and said she'd be back before Samuel woke up, but he woke up early today. You know Lexa will feel bad about leaving her responsibility to you, she always does, but since she's picked up running again you want to encourage her to keep doing it. Besides, you kind of like the company, so you don't mind at all.

Samuel is in a whimsical mood today and he's taken on the job to entertain you with all his favorite jokes as he eats his oatmeal, milk dripping off his chin every time he explodes in a fit of laughter. His jokes are terrible – not that you'd expect anything else from a five-year-old – but a little pretend laughter makes him so proud and for that alone, you'd pretend to laugh at all his terrible jokes. Any time.

"Uncle Bellamy?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"What do you call a peanut in a spacesuit?"

"I don't know, Sam. What _do_ you call a peanut in a spacesuit?"

"An astro-nut!" Samuel squeals, a silent grin on his face, impatiently anticipating your reaction.

You pretend to mull it over for a while before you crack a grin bigger than his. "An astro-nut? That's a clever one, Sam." The proud smile on his face makes you laugh and that's when the fits of laughter and the milk spilling everywhere begins. You don't care because Samuel is happy and you're cocky enough to leave the mess for Lexa to clean it up once she's back.

__________

#### LEXA

Your workout session with Lincoln yesterday has inspired you to start running again. So when your alarm clock screams an hour earlier this morning, you swing your legs out of your bed and stretch your arms over your head with a lazy smile on your lips. 

You dig out your old running gear from the bottom of your wardrobe, with an excitement you haven’t felt in a long time flowing through your body. Bellamy is already up and you tell him you should be back before Samuel wakes up. He smiles at you sending you on your way out the door with two thumbs up.

You woke up muscles all tense and aching from the torture Lincoln put you through yesterday, but ten minutes of slow pacing through the empty early morning streets of your neighborhood has loosened them up a bit. You pick up the pace, not enough to make your lungs burn, but enough to give you the feeling of being weightless. You realize you've missed this; the fresh morning breeze is cooling off your skin and you feel drops of sweat trail down your forehead and the sides of your head, the pavement is a blurry mess moving perpetually under your feet. The trees are greener today and the sunrise more magnificent, you've missed that too. You wonder if today is just that much better than all the others, or if maybe you’ve somehow forgotten to appreciate your surroundings at some point. With every step along the pavement you grow more certain of it being the latter. 

When you stand outside your apartment building – catching your breath and stretching your legs – a number of things run through your head. One, you haven't felt this peaceful in a long time. Two, you’re lost as to why you stopped running in the first place. Three, you're in terrible shape, but you'll fix that soon enough. Four, would Clarke appreciate another post-workout sweat selfie? You shake your head because you can't decide whether that's a harmless question – just innocently flirting – or if it's another one of those indecent thoughts involving the gorgeous singer you can’t seem to shake these days.

Harmless flirting, definitely.

She promised she'd tell you off if you crossed the line. Anything before that happens is harmless flirting, clearly. So if you _were_ to send her another sweaty selfie, that would still be following the rules. Obviously.

You enter the apartment and find Bellamy and Samuel laughing like idiots over their breakfast. Samuel gets easily distracted by his daydreaming while eating and it usually means he drops his food, or in this case, spills milk all over the place. 

"Hey monkey, you're up early," you greet him, as you hand him some paper towels. He knows the drill. He makes a mess at the table; he cleans it up himself. He takes the paper towels from your hand and blinks at you, obviously confused and slightly pained about something. 

"You okay, Sam?" That's your motherly instinct kicking in. He doesn't answer, which usually means something is bothering him, so you kneel next to his chair so your eye level is a bit lower than his. You put a cautious hand on his thigh because he's like you when he's upset, too much physical contact gets claustrophobic, but just the right amount is comforting. 

"Hey Sam, talk to me. What's wrong?" You watch him pout, his eyes welling up, his shoulders slumping inwards, and your heart is breaking by the sight. Sometimes it's really hard to reason with a five-year-old, so you have to be careful about what you say and how you say it. He's not giving you anything to work with so you go back in your head to trace what just happened. He was laughing when you came into kitchen and then he wasn't–

"You called him Monkey," Bellamy gives you the missing piece of the puzzle as he gets up and places his plate by the sink on his way out. "I'll give you some space."

You called him Monkey!? That was Costia's nickname for him, which would explain his reaction.

"I miss her too, Sam," you tell him. The tears in his eyes spill down his cheeks and you can't stop your own from falling either. You pull him into a hug and your tears land in his hair while his soak up your shirt. 

"I miss her every day. It's okay to miss her, Sam. It means she's still with us." He's sniffling and you kiss him on the top of his tiny black curls.

"What do say we take the day off, just the two of us? We can go to the zoo?" Sam stops sniffling, he nods a little, and you hear a fragile "okay" being whispered into your shoulder. 

"Yeah?" You smile through your tears and he nods once more. 

"Okay, let's clean up this mess and I think we both could use a shower. Then it's just you and me and all the animals at the zoo, okay?" You wipe the tears off his cheeks and kiss him once on the tip of the his nose.

 

//

 

You and Costia brought Samuel to the zoo for the first time on his second birthday. It was your thing as a family; that thing you did – just the three of you – when you needed to be a family away from everything else. Your favorite zoo animal is the sea lion because of the trick show they do; admittedly, Samuel's innocent bright laughter may have you biased on the matter.

Costia had a thing for the monkeys. She could watch the gorillas for ages; just stand there and observe them. "Look how they take care of their little ones," she would say, and Samuel would hang on her back watching them along with her while you would stand a few feet away observing your family with a melting heart. Eventually, Costia would sigh and say, "Come on, Monkey, we still have more animals to visit," and Samuel would giggle because of the nickname while your heart would melt just a little bit more. 

On Samuel's fifth birthday you took him to the zoo for the first time after Costia died. You were nervous about it because you didn't know how either of you would react. You talked to him about it beforehand and he said he wanted to see the monkeys – just the monkeys – so you spent two hours at the monkey cages watching the gorillas. You were crying because you missed Costia and Samuel was crying because he missed his mom. Then you went home and watched cartoons and fell asleep on the couch; Bellamy threw a blanket over the two of you before he went to bed.

The second time you went to the zoo – just you and Samuel – was on Christmas Eve because you missed Costia a little extra that day. You spent an hour at the monkey cages silently crying until Samuel tucked on your sleeve and said "Can we go see the sea lions, Mama?" That was the moment you knew that you and Samuel were going to be okay. By Samuel's request, you went to see the sea lions; you laughed at their silliness, and then you had some hot chocolate before going home because Samuel and Costia used to drink hot chocolate together. 

The third time was January 10th. Samuel told you that because it's your birthday, you got to choose which animals to visit and so you insisted to go visit all of them.

Every time one of you misses Costia a little bit more than usual, you go to the zoo and say hello to all the animals, and you sit by the monkey cages and talk about the things you remember about her; it's sad and a little bit heartbreaking, but just exactly what you need.

Today is just like that. Beautifully shattering. You walk through the zoo hand in hand and both of you no longer need to cry by the monkey cages to get through these days. By routine, you've swapped the tears for stories instead. You tell Samuel all the stories you remember about his mom and her love for the zoo, even though he's heard them all before. You tell him how she just _knew_ he was a Samuel the first time she laid eyes on him on the day he was born. You remind him that he's got his mom's black curly hair, her dusty blue eyes and her cute little nose. You tell him you love him and wherever she is, she loves him too. You tell him she's proud of him. 

Sometimes he tells you that Mom loves you too, just like _he_ loves you too, and you use the first opportunity you get when he's not watching to wipe away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

You visit all the animals – each and every one of them – and his sad smile dissolves, little by little, until it grows into a cheery one. That's your cue to go home. 

"Can we get hot chocolate, Mama?" He asks and it surprises you because it's summer and the sun is a bit aggressive today. 

"You want hot chocolate in this weather?"

"Mom liked hot chocolate," he explains. 

"That, she did. Okay, I'll find us some hot chocolate," you smile and pull out your phone. 

**You:**  
_Hey Clarke. Do you serve hot chocolate at Grounders and are you by any chance at work right now?_

Your phone buzzes almost immediately. 

**SuperGirl:**  
_That would be a yes and a yes. Stopping by?_

"Sam, do you remember Clarke?" You ask him and he looks at you and nods, his eyes curiously wide. 

"She makes hot chocolate. Do you want to visit her?" The bright smile he gives you tells you that this was a much better idea than you hoped it would be. 

**You:**  
_Sam and I are craving hot chocolate. We expect only the finest, Clarke. See you soon._

__________

#### CLARKE

Your Tuesday gets exponentially better as Lexa and Sam walk in through the doors; the inevitable ding has never been more welcome.

They walk up to you, hand in hand, both looking heavy and worn out. Lexa sends you a tired smile as she helps Samuel up onto one of the counter chairs, and your heart aches to give them both a hug; they look like they could use one. 

"Hi Sam. What can I get you?" You can't help the smile that grows on your face as Samuel holds out a blue flower for you. 

"Hi Clarke. This is for you," he says and Lexa is grinning like the cheshire cat.

"Thank you, Sam. It's beautiful," you tell him as you take it from him. 

"Mama and I would like a hot chocolate, please," he says, and his formality is almost too cute for you to handle. 

"Two hot chocolates coming up. Do you want it here or to-go?" You make sure to speak to Samuel only. 

"Uhm, we want it here, right Mama?"

"That's right, Sam," Lexa says as she pulls Sam into a hug from behind him and leans her chin on his head. The gesture melts your heart.

"Hey, Sam? What name do want me to write on your cup? Just Sam?" You ask him thinking maybe he wants it to say SuperBoy. 

"Uhm, Monkey," he says, biting his lip nervously and then Lexa kisses him on the top of his head as she says, "I'm proud of you, Sam." You wonder what it’s about, but it's not your place to ask things like that, so you continue your routine. 

"Alright. Two hot chocolates come right up for a Monkey and a Mama," you say winking at Sam. It draws a laughter from Lexa's lips and you kind of wish she never stopped. 

"Why don't you take a seat by one of the tables over there and I'll bring these to you in a bit. My shift ends in five minutes, actually, I could join you?" You look at Lexa, searching for any indication that this is a business between mother and son, but it's not there, and when Samuel and Lexa both grin that same bright way, you take that as a yes. 

 

//

 

"... and I liked the baby elephant," you hear Samuel say as you take a seat at their table. 

"I liked it too, Sam." Lexa replies, simultaneously greeting you with a smile. 

"Did you know that elephants can't jump?" You ask Samuel who responds with wide eyes as he shakes his head. "It's true." Samuel is still wide-eyed so you wink at him.

"Sam and I took a day off to visit the zoo," Lexa explains. 

"Ooh, I love the zoo. What animals did you see?" You're sensing that this day is all about Samuel and you want to contribute to that. 

"All of them," Samuel says in a polite voice. 

"All of them, huh? Alright, which is your favorite?" 

"Mama likes the sea lions best, and mom liked the monkeys best... I like the penguins best. And the tigers," Samuel explains, and you pick up on the fact that Lexa's belated wife's favorite zoo animal is a monkey, but you know that's definitely a sore subject, so you leave it be. 

"Good choices. You know penguins have wings, right?" You ask and Samuel nods. "Well, did you know that penguins can't fly?"

Samuel looks like he's about to explode by the conundrum, and you look at Lexa who narrows her eyes suspiciously at you so you flash a wide grin at her. 

"Are you a walking animal encyclopedia or something?" She asks you and you wink at her because, yeah, you kind of are. 

"I'm a vet, actually. I know a lot of weird stuff about animals," you explain. 

"You are? So you're working here because..." Lexa says, encouraging you to finish that sentence yourself. 

"Because it was what I could get when I moved here. It's temporary until there's an opening at the animal hospital... or the zoo." You decide not to tell her about the job interview you have at the zoo this week, because you don't want to jinx it, but you're really excited about it.

"That makes sense," Lexa says and turns to Samuel. "So Sam, if Clarke gets a job at the zoo, we get to visit her too," and you get the feeling that it's something Lexa really wants, not just for you, but for her and Samuel as well. Yeah, you _really_ don't want to jinx it now. You would love to give them a tour at the zoo.

You spend the next half hour talking about zoo animals with Samuel, and Lexa smiles softly at you every time you look at her. You're pleasantly surprised to see this Lexa, that underneath the flirting and the charming smiles, there's a gentle caring person. You also like that she brought Samuel here because it means she wants you to be a part of her life, the part that also includes Samuel. You'd like that very much, too, in fact. 

For some reason, your mind starts wandering to a hypothetical scenario where you and Lexa are more than friends. You can easily picture two of you walking down the street with Samuel in the middle, both of you holding one of his hands each. You swing him back and forth and he laughs because of thrill that tickles in his stomach. Picturing you and Lexa in a serious relationship should be a terrifying thing, but it’s not. Maybe you’re just momentarily affected by this situation; the three of you having quite the moment around this table.

Maybe this friend deal is going to be harder than first expected.

She's not ready, and if you must be honest, you aren't either. Not yet. Maybe one day, you think, smiling at the troublemakers in front of you. Maybe one day.

__________

#### SAMUEL

You like Clarke because she put tiny marshmallows in your hot chocolate. And she knows a lot about animals and that's kinda cool. She also makes Mama smile a lot and that makes you really happy. 

You didn't know penguins couldn't fly but it doesn't make sense because what do they need their wings for then? And–

"Sam." Mama holds out a napkin for you and you take it and wipe hot chocolate from your chin. 

"Clarke?" You want to know about the penguins. 

"Yes, Sam?" She smiles at you, and you like that her eyes are blue too. They're brighter than yours, but they're still really pretty. 

"If penguins can't fly, then why do they have wings?" You ask her and she smiles more than before, which makes you really proud. 

"That's a good question, Sam. They use their wings underwater to pick up speed and swim really fast."

You're not sure you believe her so you look at Mama, but Mama is smiling so you guess it's okay. 

"Here, let me show you," she says and picks up her phone. She places it in front of you to show you a video of penguins swimming. "See? They push themselves forward with their wings." 

She's right and it looks sooo cool. You wonder if Superman can swim like that or if he doesn't need to because he _can_ fly.

You like Clarke a lot more after today. She wrote Monkey on your cup and she really likes it when you give her blue flowers. You like hanging out with her and you don't want to go home when Mama says it's time, but Clarke winks at you and promises that you can hang out again soon, so it's okay. Maybe she can come with you and Auntie O to get ice cream. 

"Clarke?" 

"Yeah, Sam?"

"What is your favorite ice cream?"

"Mh... Chocolate, I think. Why do you ask?" 

"It's a secret." Clarke is the best because she likes the same ice cream as you. 

"Come on, Sam, say bye to Clarke, we need to get going," Mama says. 

"Bye, Clarke," you say, and when you go to hug her, she kneels to hug you back and she ruffles your hair like Mama does and it makes you smile. 

"Thank you for this, Clarke," Mama says in her adult voice. 

"You're welcome, anytime," Clarke says. You're pretty sure that means you can come back and have hot chocolate and talk about animals with Clarke again. 

That would be really cool.

__________

#### LEXA

Bellamy made mac and cheese for dinner because it's Samuel's favorite. He came home and told you to take the night off and that he'd make you dinner. It makes you feel guilty that you sometimes still need him to deal with things, but you once told him that and then he told you to shut up and let him help you. Because he wanted to. Because you're his best friend. Because he's your brother. Because you deserve it.

Samuel told Bellamy about the zoo during dinner. He also told him about visiting Clarke and drinking hot chocolate and all the things Clarke told him about animals. Bellamy spent most of dinner time sending you smug looks and smirky smiles, and you know it's because you took Samuel to visit Clarke, which is unlike you because you usually spend your zoo days with Samuel, only the two of you.

Admittedly, it _isn’t_ like you, and you can't deny you’ve thought a lot about it. Samuel wanted hot chocolate and you didn't hesitate texting Clarke to find out if she served it. It was pure instinct and hanging out with Clarke made you feel better; you can't deny that either. Watching Clarke interact with Samuel made you feel lighter, somehow. Clarke made Samuel feel better too and that was a very important thing today. Today of all days. 

You promised Samuel you would watch a movie with him after dinner, so that’s what you’re doing right now. You kiss his tiny black curls and squeeze him a little tighter as he cuddles up to you on the couch. He wants to watch that movie with the penguins from the Madagascar movies, and on days like today you’re ready to give him just about everything he asks for. Every time a penguin flaps its wings he smiles into your shoulder and your heart almost bursts from it. You think that maybe Clarke doesn't only have a positive effect on you, but on Samuel too. 

"Mama?" He yawns.

"Yes, Sam?" You encourage him. 

"Clarke has blue eyes," he says. 

"Yes, she does," you agree. You can feel Bellamy's eyes on you, but you keep yours fixated on the penguins on TV. Bellamy is sitting at the dinner table grading student reports for his economics class and you know he's only doing that to give you and Samuel a little space. 

"Mom had blue eyes too," he says timidly.

"Yes, she did." You almost choke on those words but you don't want Samuel to know, so you swallow hard and hope for the best that he doesn't make you talk about Costia anymore than this. 

"I like Clarke," he yawns again. 

"I do too, Sam." Bellamy's eyes upon you starts to feel heavy and you look at him, partly because you can't help yourself, partly because you need a bit of his strength tonight. The Bellamy you find there is one you don't see often. He watches you and Samuel with a sad smile on his face and you know it's not because he's actually sad but because he loves his nephew more than anything and only wants the best for the both of you. Bellamy is an intelligent man, he knows that Samuel talking about Clarke is a big thing. You know that too. But you're not ready to deal with whatever that means. Bellamy knows that as well.

You wonder what would happen if you decided to open up to Clarke, and if you did, would she even want to be with you now she knows about your kid and all the baggage that comes with a dead wife? How would Samuel react if he saw you interact intimately; would he hate you because he thinks you're replacing his mom with Clarke? _You_ know that won't ever happen, that no one can take Costia's place, but the mind of a five-year-old doesn't see things the same way. You know that from experience. 

You don't have the answers for any of it, but one thing is perfectly clear; You've only known Clarke for four days and you're already picturing her being a part of your life as more than just a friend. It terrifies you, but the fact that Samuel really likes her too means that you can allow yourself to at least consider it. 

Clarke is gorgeous. You've been dreaming about her the past couple of nights, and despite how hard you've tried to first avoid it and then deny it, she's officially gotten under your skin. 

The only problem is, you're not sure you're ready to face whatever that means. 

Not yet.


	5. Just Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You and all your sweet comments <3  
> Thank you!
> 
> I've been looking forward to share this chapter with you. Who am I kidding; I'm looking forward to share all future chapters with you. I can't believe we're at chapter five already, but at the same time I'll have you know that I'm currently drafting chapter fifteen and the story keeps growing. I'm a bit anxious about some of the choices I've made in the plot, but we're not there yet, so for now: ignorance is bliss ;)
> 
> This chapter, though. You know what they say. It's just lunch :)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. And as always, plenty of kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing this chapter  <3  
> 

#### CLARKE

You usually spend Friday afternoon at Octavia and Lincoln's place. Raven will pick you up at the coffee shop when you get off at 3pm, and then the two of you will invade the studio. The rest of the band usually join you a couple of hours later and Monty always brings pizza for dinner. Friday is your band practice night and tonight is the first practice after your debut concert and everyone agreed on making this more of a chill and celebrate kind of thing. 

It's nearly 4pm and it's just you, Raven, Raven's creative mind and your favorite playground: the studio. 

"Hey, Clarke," Raven says as she fiddles with something on her computer, "I've been mixing those vocals we recorded last month. Wanna hear?" 

"Ooh, it's done? Yes! Hit me!" You grin excitedly, but before Raven can hit play your phone rings. You recognize the phone number and it's a call you simply cannot miss. 

"Sorry, let me just take this," you apologize to Raven before answering the call. Your heart is beating rapidly from anxiety because you so badly want this to be good news. 

"Hello, this is Clarke Griffin."

_"Hello Clarke. This is Julia Smith from Polis Zoo. I'm calling to tell you that we very much enjoyed our talk yesterday and that the job is yours if you still want it."_

You haven't told anyone about the job interview because you didn't want to get your hopes up and then have to tell everyone that you didn't get it. But right now you want to shout it from the rooftops. You got the job at the zoo which means you're going back to do what you were meant to do. It also means no more shitty coffee shop shifts. 

"Really? Yes, of course I still want it, Julia!"

_"Perfect! How about you come in to the office on Monday, say around noon? We can go through the contract and whatever questions you might have. Would that work?"_

"Yes! No problem! I'll be there. Thank you Julia!"

_"You're welcome, Clarke. I'll talk to you Monday. Have a great weekend."_

"You too, Julia."

You disconnect the call and lock eyes with a slightly confused Raven. "I got the job, Rae!" You feel the excitement bubble in your blood, and the adrenaline rush that comes with it explodes as you burst out screaming a ‘YES YES YES!!’ jumping on the spot. "No more shitty coffee–" 

Your celebration is interrupted by Octavia and Lincoln entering the studio. 

"Hey, what's up?" Octavia says. 

"Clarke got a job," Raven says as she takes a seat on the couch, a curious smile on her lips. "I didn't know you were looking for something else, Clarke. What kinda job is it?" 

That's when you realize that you never told them that you're a vet. Lexa knows, but she's only know for a couple of days. The realization makes you frown a little. 

"Uhm, it's at the zoo. I'm a vet, actually," you say nervously, because you know that this might open up the possibility of you having to talk about your past. 

"Okay. One, congratulations!" Octavia says pulling you into a hug, "and two, you're a vet? How did that slip past me?" 

"Well... It didn't. I mean, I never told any of you."

"Why not?" Raven says, because she's blunt. She looks a bit hurt, but you're not sure if it's because you _assume_ she's hurt – simply because you fear it – or if she actually _is_ hurt. 

"Uhm... I... Well... " You take a deep breath before continuing, "I didn't know how to tell you that I so desperately needed to leave Arkadia behind that taking a job making coffee was worth it," you say, and that same desperation washes over you within seconds, it squeezes your lungs and forces your eyes to drop to the floor out of shame.

"Hey, Clarke, listen." Octavia says, putting her hands on your shoulders and seeking your eyes. "Unless you killed your old band members, we don't care about the reason you moved here. I'm excited for you, that you got this job, and I hope that one day you’ll feel ready to tell me... well us, about your past, but we don't expect you to, okay? Only if you want to."

You look at Octavia who's become a watery blur in front of you and suddenly you're hugged from behind by Raven – you assume – and Lincoln hugs the three of you from the side.

"Congratulations, Clarke!" Raven says and she sounds proud, so she's probably not hurt at all. 

"Yep, we should celebrate!" Lincoln says, squeezing the three of you a little tighter. 

"Thank you, guys!" You sniffle into Octavia's shoulder. "I... just... thank you."

"Pizza is here!" Monty exclaims as he walks into the studio. "Oh, group hug... Without _me_? I don't think so." Monty places the pizza on the coffee table and joins the hug.

"Hi Monty," you say from the middle of the huddle, and you try to sound happy, but you can feel a little sadness in your words too; you're not sure why, because this is actually a really good day. 

"Hey Clarke," he greets back. "So, what's the occasion?"

"I got a new job, which means I get to quit my job at the coffee house... finally!" You tell him, sounding a little happier by every word. 

"Congrats! Tell me more about this new job of yours over pizza, I'm hungry," he says. It's so Monty to be casually excited about things and it makes you feel good in a way you can't describe. Maybe because Monty equals less drama and you've had your share of drama in the past – enough to last lifetimes.

 

//

 

"So, Clarke... You aren't quitting on us, too, are you?" Raven asks leaning back to get more comfortable on the couch, her hand rubbing her stomach. Monty bought too much pizza again and Raven always eats a slice or two more than she should. 

"What? No, of course not." You assure her with a bit of caution. "You're all stuck with me... No matter what my day job is."

"Good!" Octavia smiles. "Sam loves the zoo. It's gonna make his day once he finds out that Clarke-like-Superman works at the zoo," she winks at you, and for some odd reason, you can't control the blush on your cheeks.

You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to tell Lexa that you got the job, so you pick up your phone to shoot her a text.

**You:**  
_Hey Trouble. Tell Sam he can come visit me at the zoo the next time you're there :)_

"Whatcha doin'," Raven singsongs. 

"Texting Lexa about the job." You have a terrible poker face and you know it, but still, you try to act nonchalant about it. You don't want the others to know how big a deal this is for you; that Lexa cares about you getting this job. It's not just about Lexa's opinions or Samuel’s love for the zoo; there's a part of you that genuinely wants to share this with them so badly. 

You don't miss the sharing looks between Raven and Octavia, but you ignore them as your phone buzzes. 

**Troublemaker:**  
_[Photo attached]_  
_Wow, I assume that means you got a job there? Congratulations! I'm happy for you and Sam says he's looking forward to show you the penguins :)_

The attached photo is of Lexa and Samuel with bright smiles and thumbs up, and you can't control the grin from overtaking your face as you read the text. 

"Texting Lexa, huh? How's that going?" Octavia smirks at you and she's _so_ Bellamy's sister – the same smirk, the same cocky attitude. It's kind of scary, actually.

"She's been stopping by the coffee shop a couple of times this week, we're just talking."

You don't know how to tell them that she brought Samuel along on Tuesday and that the two of you bonded over animals. You don't know how to explain to them that you and Lexa are just friends, because you know they put more into those words than they are supposed to. 'Just friends' always mean something else than 'just that’; although it really does mean ’just friends’ with the two of you. Honestly. 

They probably put a lot more into your _'just talking'_ -comment too, but you can't be bothered worrying about it because your phone buzzes again. 

**Troublemaker:**  
_Please tell me you're out celebrating!_

**You:**  
_Well, if by out celebrating you mean pizza and band hangout in O and Linc's studio then yes :)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_Claa-aarke, you're doing it wrong. Are you free tomorrow? I'll take you celebrating!_

**You:**  
_Are you asking me out on a date,Troublemaker? ;)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_A lunch date, actually, yes! To celebrate your new job. Properly._

**You:**  
_If you insist :)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_I do insist! Hey, I've got a cartoon date with Sam now, so I'll text you the details later, okay? Say hi to the weirdos for me and tell them they're doing it wrong and I'll make sure to fix that tomorrow :)_

**You:**  
_Of course. Say hi to Sam for me too :)_

"We're just talking," Octavia imitates you in a mocking tone that _really_ means what you sort of already expected. They're making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is.

You spend the next couple of hours avoiding the subject of you texting Lexa as best you can, but it's nearly impossible because Raven and Octavia are meddlers. But then Lincoln picks up his guitar because he wants to play some new material for all of you, and he sends you this look that tells you he's doing it to give you some space from their third-degree questioning. You mouth a silent 'thank you' to him when no one’s looking.

Lincoln's new material is great. He occasionally writes mellow acoustic songs not meant for anyone but himself. He's not the best singer, but his songs have soul and that's more important in your book. 

"Hey, Clarke. What's this lunch date you got with Lexa tomorrow?" Octavia grins like she just won the lottery. 

"It's lunch, Octavia!" You sigh.

"Sure it is," she scoffs and there it is again; people putting more into the words 'just friends' and 'lunch date' than they're supposed to. 

"Wait, how do you know about that?" 

"Because I'm babysitting Sam while the two of you are out shenaniganning," she winks and Raven laughs.

"That's not a word, O." Monty says casually from his spot on the floor. 

"That's not important, Monty," Octavia deadpans. 

 

//

 

Lexa texted you last night to meet her at noon by the town square fountain. You're early because you're never late; you're way too early because you're also nervous.

It's nice out today, not too hot, a gentle breeze on your skin, an occasional cloud floating by on the big blue canvas above. You're leaning up against the edge of the fountain. There's a jet of water rising from the middle, and if the breeze were only a bit stronger, it would carry a spray of water your way. You wouldn't mind that right now, actually, maybe it could cool off some of that hot nervousness crawling on your skin. 

This is stupid. It's just Lexa. It's just a lunch date. It's just Lexa using your new job as an excuse to hang out with you; or, perhaps it's a perfect opportunity and not an excuse. Either way, it's _just_ a lunch date. Lunch, for crying out loud. You don't remember the last time you were this nervous. It's ridiculous. You've been talking to her most days the past week – either in person or through texting – so this shouldn't be any different. 

"You know, I almost didn't recognize you without a cup of coffee in your hand," someone says behind you and you almost miss how your lips curl into a smile automatically, just from hearing her voice.

You turn around, and for every inch of your movement, your smile grows wider until you're face to face with _that smirk_. Your eyes slide down her body and you have absolutely no control of it because, _damn_ , Lexa is wearing her usual black jeans and a white button-up... and a tie. A dark green tie. Okay, so you also have a thing for girls in ties. This starting over and being friends thing is going to be really hard for you if she keeps doing _that_ to you.

Lexa clears her throat and your eyes shoot up to meet hers and yeah, you weren't subtle _at all_. Not if her raised eyebrow is anything to go by. 

"Hey, Troublemaker!" You wink at her playfully, trying to camouflage the heat creeping up your cheeks, without a doubt bright red already. 

"I told you, Clarke, I am no such thing," she grins back at you, her eyes never leaving yours, and you feel a little guilty for just having ravaged her body in a stare. 

"So, where are you taking me?" You clear your throat; you need this conversation back on track before it goes somewhere you can't return from. 

"To lunch, Clarke," she deadpans. "To celebrate. Properly. But first..." Lexa pauses for dramatic effect as she pulls her hands from behind her back. "Congratulations on the new title, Dr. Doolittle, from Samuel and me."

You quirk an eyebrow at the new nickname because _no, just no_ and she grins cheekily at you because she knows it's a no-go, but that never stopped her before. 

She hands you a paper scroll and two blue flowers tied up with blue silk ribbon. You get the flower thing and the choice of color, but the scrolled up piece of paper is new. 

"There's a flower from each of us and then Sam drew something for you. I can tell you what it is if you'd rather wait unscrolling it." 

Damn it. 

It's like those two are lethal or something. One charming troublemaker is trouble enough. Two? Your heart can't handle it; it’s nearly bursting at the seams from all the charm and the adorableness. Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. It's so uncalled for and so... something you're kind of addicted to already.

"No! Don't ruin the surprise, just... find me somewhere to a sit and then I'll look," You tell her. She smiles and offers you her arm which you take, smiling shyly back at her. Again, you're not sure if this is actually a date or if Lexa is just acting all charming and such because that's who she is. 

She gently pulls you away from the fountain and across the town square towards your unknown lunch destination. "You look stunning in that dress, Clarke," she says and when you look at her, she's looking straight into your eyes, clenching her jaw just the slightest, and you get the feeling it was hard for her to say out loud. 

"Thank you, Lexa. You’re quite dashing yourself, always breaking my heart with the suspenders and the ties and whatnot... just so you know," you tell her, because you're craving _that smirk_. 

There it is. 

"And the sweaty post-workout selfies," she adds to the list. 

"Yeah, those too," you admit and you feel the familiar warmth of a blush on your cheeks. 

"I knew it!" She says triumphantly, adding a couple of shades darker to your blushing.

You walk through crowds of people as Lexa keeps guiding you towards your destination, and you take a moment to appreciate how little you care about anything else but the woman by your side. 

"I be on my suit and tie..." Lexa sings softly and when you look at her, a playful smile grows on her lips. 

"You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope!"

 

//

 

Lunch is magical and you're a bit ashamed to admit it because it's ‘just lunch’. Lexa brings you to this little Italian place that seats people outside in a garden where they also make their pizza in a stone oven; and yes, they only serve pizza. The irony of Lexa telling you that pizza and band hangout isn't proper celebration isn't lost on you. 

"This is proper pizza, Clarke. You need proper pizza to celebrate properly." Lexa smiles innocently. 

She's right, though. This might actually be the best pizza you've ever had and she smiles smugly at you when you admit to it. 

She prompts you to tell her all about your new job, which you gladly do, except you don't have all the details yet. You then ask her about the gym. You've already heard Lincoln's story, but you want hers too and you can't help but be amazed by the things she's achieved in life. She doesn't once ask about your past and you wonder if that's because she doesn't want to talk about her past either, or if she on some subconscious level knows it's a touchy subject. Either way, you're grateful for it. 

After lunch you carefully loosen the blue ribbon and unfolds Samuel's drawing. It's still only a five-year-old’s drawing, but there's no doubt in your mind that it's a penguin. The charming beautiful kid – the little boy that loves Superman, zoo animals and hot chocolate – has made _you_ a drawing of a penguin because he wants to give you a present. It's kind of overwhelming so you just stare at it until Lexa interrupts you.

"It's a penguin, Clarke," she says and when you look at her she cracks an amused smile and you shake your head because you can't believe she just said that. 

"I can see what it is, Lexa," you tell her, your eyes sliding back to the drawing. "He's so sweet," you whisper to no one, still amazed by the gesture. 

"He likes you," Lexa confesses, and it sounds like a confession she has a hard time making, one that's not over, so you look at her giving her your full attention. 

"I..." You watch Lexa's throat move as she swallows hard, and then she draws in a deep breath and you're a bit worried because you're not sure how you went from Samuel's penguin to an anxious Lexa.

"Lexa?" You slide your hand across the table and put it on hers to give it a squeeze. 

"He told me he likes you," she says, her eyes falling to your hands on the table. "And I realized that he was one of the reasons I ran out on you at the bar. Because we're a broken family and I don't want to break him even more." She turns her hand palm up to entwine your fingers and something flutters in your stomach. 

"I'm so scared, Clarke," she continues. "You've caught my eye, you're gorgeous, you have a big heart and you make me smile and... Sam absolutely adores you. And I don't think I'm able to stay away from you, Clarke. Can we, maybe, try moving slowly, no labels, just us seeing where things go?”

You watch her take another deep breath and you realize you're doing the same. 

"Lexa, look at me." You tug a little at her hand and she finally looks at you and you see it, the fear and the pain. "I don't think I'm able to stay away from you either," you smile at her, only just now realizing how true those words really are. "And I understand that Sam is the most important piece in this. I don't expect any less, okay? I've come to care about the both of you in a very short amount of time and it scares me too. I... " You furrow your brows because you're not ready for this conversation, but if you're going to do this, she needs to know; at least some of it.

"I moved here to escape a life that broke me apart and I don't think I've fully worked through all that yet. I'm broken too, so yes, no labels and moving slow and just see where things go sounds great to me, Lexa."

In this bubble of silence, you feel naked – stripped to the bone – and you gently cling to Lexa's hand while you look at her, taking in what has just been said. 

More than friends. No labels. You just are; slowly and on shaky grounds. You should be terrified, but right now – fingers entwined with Lexa's – you don't feel anything but great. 

"Wanna get out of here?" you ask. 

"Yeah," she says. a sigh of relief escaping her lungs.

You take a walk in the park, hand in hand, no talking for the most part. The sun is high in the sky but nothing shines brighter than the bubbling sensation currently rushing through your body. It feels easy, walking next to Lexa like this; open hearts and soft hands. It feels exhilarating, the sharing of smiles and glances. It feels like an adrenaline rush thinking about how quick a lunch date that wasn't a date at all turned into this. _This._ You and Lexa dancing on the edge of something that could easily spin out of control if you aren't careful. You're willing to give it a try, though. It feels like something that's worth the risk. 

Lexa tugs at your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Does it mean I can send you sweaty workout selfies now without you complaining?" That half smile playing at the corner of her lips. 

You take a step closer to her and leans in to press a kiss against her cheek. "Trouble," you whisper as you deliberately brush your lips against her earlobe. 

"You started it," she sighs, as she pulls you along. 

You still don't know where she's taking you.

__________

#### LEXA

Your heart is racing.

Clarke's soft hand is holding yours and you don't ever want her to let go. Your heart is racing like wild horses against the wind. You've known her for a week – _a week_ – and it's absolutely ridiculous that your heart is already skipping beats and running wild all at once. It terrifies you; it makes you feel alive.

This lunch wasn't supposed to be anything else than lunch. You wanted to do something nice for Clarke to congratulate her because she deserves it. But then she was sitting there being utterly gorgeous and charmingly beautiful and so full of care for your son. It felt like the stars were aligning; like all the frazzled, loose pieces in your heart clicked back into place. 

So you took a chance. 

You told Clarke how you felt, that Samuel's needs comes first and that labeling whatever the two of you are scares you. You told her you'd like to be more than friends, but you need to take things slow. It's a lot to ask for and you never once thought she'd actually agree to it. 

But she did. 

Right now, you feel like the luckiest person in the world. You may not deserve this gorgeous woman – no, you definitely do not deserve the gorgeous woman that is Clarke Griffin – which is all the more reason for you to make sure you never take her for granted. That's a promise to yourself, no matter the label you fit under. 

You've got one more thing for her on this day of celebrations, and it's a bit lame because you know she will love it, though it's mostly for Samuel. You lead her through the park feeling like a teenager on your first date and every time you look at her, she winks at you and you try your best to cover your blushing with one of those smirks you know works on her. You lead her down towards Octavia and Lincoln's house, stopping outside their house to explain to her why you're here. 

"Okay, so I've got one more thing for you and I hope you understand the importance of it. Just... before we go in..." You lose track of your words because she looks at you with her bright blue eyes, and you take a moment to curse yourself for always drowning in them. You almost forget the purpose of you being here. Perhaps you forget time as well. She looks at you like you're sharing your innermost secrets with her and she promises to keep them safe for all eternity.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch your hand lift itself to push a few stray golden locks behind her ear, and you watch a soft smile break free from her lips. You feel your feet moving one step closer towards her, so slowly it almost doesn't happen. You feel the warmth radiate off her skin, it pulsates through the air between your bodies to the rhythm of your racing heart.

There's this thing, this feeling of courage, of dreaming and anticipation washing over you. You run your knuckles along her jaw and she shudders under your touch. You slide your fingers around her neck and you hold your breath. Your eyes never leave hers, but you don't miss how she bites her lip, and so you pull her in for a kiss. It's nothing like at the bar. It's so much more. She gently places her hands on your hips and they move upwards until there's enough of your shirt to hold on to. 

It's slow, beautiful, intense, magical and it so wasn't what you meant when you told her you had one more thing for her, but hey, you'll take it. If Clarke Griffin wants to kiss you like this, you'll take it any day; you'll worship it.

She bites your lower lip gently and it releases an inevitable gasp from your throat, and so you know you need to end this before it gets out of control. You run your knuckles along her jaw again as you take a step back. 

"That wasn't what I meant..." 

You can't finish the sentence, but it's okay because she grins at you and says "I know, but I'm not complaining."

You bite your lip nervously. "Samuel threw a little... tantrum when I told him he wasn't coming along today. He doesn't know you're here, because I didn't want to have to tell him you couldn't make it. He wants to congratulate you himself. Do you want to come in?" 

"You do realize I have a free pass to enter that house whenever I want, right?" She smirks. 

"Well..." 

"I'm kidding, Lexa! I would love to come in and thank the little man himself for the fine penguin art and the pretty flowers," she says, gesturing for you to lead the way and her words melt your heart. 

You grab her hand and pull her towards the three steps up to the front door. Before opening the door you stop and say, "Oh, and Clarke. I've got a thing for dresses, just so you know," and you give her your most sincere look as you tell her, "They happen to be..." You pause to run a finger down the side of her dress until you hook it softly around the hem and give it a firm tug deliberately brushing against the skin on her thigh to make a statement, "... very convenient." When you see the blush spread on her cheeks you open the door to enter, leaving a flustered Clarke in the doorway. 

 

//

 

You find Octavia and Samuel in the kitchen, Octavia is cutting out an apple in slices for him and it looks like he impatiently steals a slice or two before she's entirely done. 

"Good to see the house is still standing," you say, leaning against the door frame. 

"Are you doubting my nanny skills?" Octavia challenges.

"Not the slightest," you grin. "Hey, Sam, having fun?" He must be because he has yet to greet you, or maybe he's still mad at you for not taking him with you to see Clarke. You know he'll be back to normal by tomorrow, but it still stings a little. 

"Yes." He answers shortly, but doesn't look up at you, so yeah, he's still mad at you. 

You feel Clarke's presence behind you, so you say, "I've got a surprise for you," which catches his interest immediately. It always does. It's a bit of a manipulative trick you sometimes use when you need him to not shut you out – conjuring up a spontaneous surprise for a five-year-old isn’t that hard – but today it's as sincere as it could ever be. He looks up at you and you watch his eyes move to something behind you and when a grin overtakes his face you know he's seen Clarke. 

"Clarke!" He beams as he jumps off his chair to run to Clarke. She kneels to catch him in a hug and a bright laughter jumps from her lips when he hits her with an impact that's maybe a bit harder than she'd anticipated. As much as it hurts you that he's so angry with you he doesn't want to greet you, your heart melts watching Clarke interact like this with him. 

"Hi Sam," Clarke grins. You watch her put her hands on his shoulders and hold him at arm's length to look him up and down. When he couldn't go with you to meet Clarke he had started bargaining, well not so much bargaining as upfront insisting to wear his white shirt and tie, just like you, or else he refused to go to Auntie O's. While knowing that an afternoon with Auntie O usually shows in many shades of dirt on his clothes, you gave in to his demands because you didn't want to break his heart any more than it already had been. So he had triumphantly run to his room to get his dusty blue tie and you had made sure Octavia had an extra t-shirt for him in case they went to play soccer or the like. 

"Wow, so dashing you are, Sam!" Clarke says, tugging on his tie and Samuel beams with pride as he puffs his little chest. "Thank you for the penguin and the flower, I really like it. Your Mama tells me you want to show me the penguins at the zoo?" 

"Uh, yes!" You don't know if Clarke can tell, but the pitch of Samuel's voice is a clear sign that she just made his day. It doesn't happen often, not since Costia died. He's happy most of them time, just not over the moon excited about things. Ice cream with Auntie O comes really close and apparently, this thing with penguins he seems to be sharing with Clarke tops it. 

Even though you and Clarke decided to take things slow, you can't ignore the fact that _this feels right_. The only thing you're really scared of is how it will affect him if someday Clarke won't be here anymore, so you need to make sure to keep their bond in a healthy balance. 

"I can't wait," Clarke winks at him before straightening up again. 

"Mama?" He looks at you with excitement for the first time today since you told him he couldn't go with you. 

"Yes, Sam?" 

"Can we go to the zoo now?" He looks at you with those pleading puppy eyes and he looks so much like Costia when he does that. She used that look to blatantly manipulate you into things such as backrubs or some of your dessert. Samuel doesn't do it on purpose and he doesn't know what it does to you, but that doesn't mean it’s any less harder to say no to him. 

"Come here, Sam." You kneel to get to his eye level as he walks towards you. "The zoo is not an option today, but I promise we'll go soon."

He looks at you, blinking a few times, scrunching his nose a little. His tiny facial movements are Costia's too. The blinking and scrunching routine means he's thinking. Costia would do it during nerve-wracking decision making such as which dessert to pick. You're beginning to think that maybe it's the same for Samuel too because you're pretty certain he's thinking about choosing between throwing another tantrum or accepting the deal. 

"Okay, but can Clarke stay?" You smile at him because he's bargaining; just like Costia would always check what dessert _you'd_ pick to make sure she chose a different one so she could taste both. He doesn't know that but he reads it as a yes, which it is, so he goes back to Clarke and pulls her hand towards the table. 

"Come on, Clarke," he says, and you search Clarke's eyes to make sure she's okay to stay. She grins back at you and you think that maybe she's even more smitten with your kid than she is with you. You can't blame her, he's your light in the dark, so easy to love. A timid voice in the back of your mind tells you that Clarke is easy to love, too. You tell yourself it doesn't actually mean you love her, it's way too soon for any sort of feelings like that, but your racing heart and the heat in your cheeks tell you something else.


	6. Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, I think we're slowly getting somewhere here. 
> 
> This chapter picks up exactly where the last one left you. So if anyone were curious to find out how Samuel congratulating Clarke went, you'll find out now.  
> Other than that, some of you are curious to find out what Clarke's past is all about, and we're slowly getting there. Soon, promise!
> 
> As for now. I'm super excited that you like this fic and my characters. While we're already 20k+ words in I feel like we're only getting started. Thank you for reading at sharing your thoughts <3
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing  <3  
> 

#### CLARKE

Your heart is melting because Samuel looks so goddamn cute in his white shirt and dusty blue tie. Your heart is melting because he drew you a penguin and he wants to take you to the zoo. Your heart is melting because Lexa keeps smiling at you like you're the sun every time you look at her.

Be still your beating heart. 

Them troublemakers. 

Samuel wants to draw animals, which is what you've been doing for the past half hour at Octavia's kitchen table. You tell him fun facts about the animals he's drawing and you get the feeling Lexa and Octavia finds it a little interesting, too, but are too proud – or too adult, maybe – to admit it. 

"What about this?" He says, pointing to his new doodle. 

"That's a giraffe?" You assume it's a giraffe because of the long neck, but he's still just a five-year-old with limited pencil handling, so you ask him. 

"Uh, yes!" He answers matter-of-factly. 

"Okay, well a giraffe's tongue is about twenty inches long, which is like this," and you hold up your hands to show him how much twenty inches are. 

"That's very long," he says, his eyes jumping between your hands. You can tell he trusts you even though he doesn't quite believe a tongue can be that long. 

"It is. Do you know what color it is?" You ask him instead of just giving him the answer. 

When he looks like his head is about to explode Octavia starts laughing and you decide to pull her into the conversation too. "Do _you_ know, Auntie O?" 

"Well, no..." She says, not laughing anymore, and you catch Lexa smiling smugly out of the corner of your eye.

"Lexa?" You wink at her. 

"Please, Clarke of The Animal Kingdom, enlighten us, we the wee mortals." She smirks at you.

"Are you still stuck on the twenty inch long tongue thing?" Octavia asks Lexa, and somehow she made an animal fun fact turn into something dirty and it's _so Octavia_ you should've seen it coming. 

"No," Lexa scoffs and when Octavia breaks out laughing it feels like your cheeks are turning the same red shade as Lexa's.

"Anyways," you try to save the moment, "Sam, a giraffe tongue is dark. A mix between black," you ruffle his hair, "and blue," you poke his tie with an index finger. He follows your finger with his wide eyes, and you suddenly feel an urge to place a kiss on his black curls, but you don't, because he's Lexa's kid and you don't want to cross any boundaries that are not yours to cross. 

"Aaaand," you pause for the dramatic effect, "the dark color is a good thing because it works like sun lotion so they don't get a sunburn."

Samuel is staring at you with his mouth slightly open. You're pretty sure, if you were to give him just one more fun fact, his head will most definitely explode.

"You're making this up." Octavia’s skepticism pulls a bright laughter from Lexa’s lungs. 

"I'm not, O. Google it if you don't trust the vet," you challenge her. 

Octavia rolls her eyes and you look at Lexa sharing a soft smile across the table. Samuel is still thinking, so you tell him you'll show him when he comes to visit you at the zoo. 

"Whatever. Hey SuperBoy, wanna go play music with me?" Octavia says, looking at Samuel and you think maybe she feels the need to re-earn some of the lost coolness points. 

"Uh, yes!" Samuel says, jumping off his chair to pull Octavia from hers. 

Octavia sticks her tongue out at Lexa before leaving the kitchen and Lexa raises an eyebrow at the empty space Octavia just vanished from. 

Lexa gets up and starts cleaning up some of the mess Samuel has caused. She puts plastic cups and small plates in the sink and you get up to join her, leaning against the kitchen counter. She leans against the counter opposite you, you're facing each other and you don't know why, but a shy smile creeps up on you and overtakes your face. 

"So..." You don't know what to say, so this will have to do. 

"So." Lexa agrees, smiling back at you. 

You feel like a teenager standing in front of your crush and it's ridiculous because up until now you've been confident around Lexa; or, at least you'd like to think so. It's silly that the two of you finally accepting your mutual attraction is the thing that turns you insecure.

You watch Lexa's eyes grow from amused to vulnerable and you feel the need to know what's going on inside her head, but you don't get a chance to ask her because she interrupts you. 

"Thank you for spending time with Sam," she says. You don't understand how that should lead to the vulnerable state she's in, but before you know it, she explains herself. 

"I feel silly admitting this, but you make me nervous, Clarke." She pushes herself off the counter and walks towards you until she stands close enough to touch you. "I feel like a high school kid around you and that's why I know that this isn't just me liking you for being great with Sam. It's much more than that. It's... _you_. That's why I'm so scared."

You watch the usually overconfident woman break down her walls in front of you. You watch her gaze fall to the linoleum floor below your feet. You watch her bite her lip nervously. You know you need to give her _something_ before she retracts back into herself. This vulnerable and honest Lexa is too precious to hide from the world. 

"You make me nervous too," is what you give her. You watch her chest rise with the heavy intake of air and when she looks back at you, the butterflies in your stomach awaken. You reach over to softly tug at the tip of her tie, soft enough so that she can withstand it if she wants to. She doesn't, so you pull her gently closer and into a hug, your arms encircling her shoulders even though she's taller than you, her arms desperately holding onto your waist as she bends down a little to bury her face in the crook of your neck. You feel her warm breath caress your collarbone and you tighten your grip around her. 

It feels like she needs it – the comfort – and you're not entirely sure why, but you'll gladly give it to her. Truth is, you don't know how _not_ to when she looks this vulnerable. You're pretty sure you'd give her anything she needs. 

As for taking things slow, this moment feels maybe a bit too intimate, but your heart is beating a rhythm you're very much fond of and for a moment in time you feel strong enough to not let your fears control you so you give in. 

You let yourself feel safe in Lexa's arms. 

It's the first time since your dad died that you've felt safe in someone else's arms like this. 

It's the first time since Finn...

Your mind shuts down immediately. That's a part of your past you promised yourself to never revisit. It's the real reason you left; no one knows about it and you don't plan on telling anyone. 

"Hey, Clarke. Talk to me, what's going on?" Lexa is cupping your cheeks, thumbing away the tears there and you open your eyes to stare into hers, the green heavily mixed with a shade of concern. 

"Where did you go?" She says, because you didn't answer her. You don't know how to answer this one either. You don't remember anything between you comforting Lexa and Lexa cupping your cheeks. You don't remember crying. 

Lexa's eyes are so green and your own eyes are glued to hers. They anchor you safely to the ground in what feels like the eye of a hurricane. 

"I'm sorry," you say because you're ashamed she has to witness this. 

"About what?" She desperately seeks your eyes for a clue and you realize that maybe she blames herself. 

"This... I... I don't know what happened... I just..." It's so damn hard to form a sentence right now when she looks at you like that. A part of you wants to open up, to tell her all your secrets but you can't do that without telling her about Finn and that's not an option. 

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Okay? Just... Would you at least tell me if I did something wrong?" You watch Lexa's lower lip quiver, she's scared too. You were right; she blames herself.

"You make me feel safe." Your voice is so small you can barely here it yourself, but the shift in her eyes, the softness that takes over, let's you know that she heard you. You feel better staring at the floor as you shamefully confess, "I haven't felt safe in a long time." 

"Clarke..." she whispers and you don't need to look at her to know that your confession broke her heart. You can hear it in her voice and you recognize it as what you felt when she ran out on you at the bar; her pain broke your heart too. 

She pulls you back into her arms and this time _she_ comforts _you_. 

"I've got you," she promises, and you trust her.

__________

#### OCTAVIA

Samuel survived ten minutes of drumming, him on your lap while you helped him control the drumsticks, before he started yawning. 

He didn't want to go home just yet, so you placed him on the couch and found a blanket and some cartoons for him to watch on your tablet. It took less than five minutes before his head started falling sideways and so you took the tablet away from him and helped his sleeping body to lie down on the couch. 

This happens often; him napping on the couch in the studio. When everyone comes over, Lexa usually puts him to nap here because the room is soundproofed, so he won't be woken up by whatever noise any guests might cause. 

You leave a kiss on his forehead before you go back upstairs, and although you would've loved to give Clarke and Lexa a bit more time alone you also don't feel like silently staring at a sleeping five-year-old.

At the top of the stairs you realize the house is quiet, too quiet, and you wonder if maybe they left. It doesn't make sense because Lexa wouldn't leave without Samuel. 

Then you hear it, the hushed voices from the kitchen. 

_"I hate to leave you like this, but I gotta get Sam home."_

_"I'm okay, Lexa. Don't worry about me."_

_"But–"_

_"No buts. I told you, I'm fine."_

_"Okay... Let me go get him, I know he'll want to say goodbye to you."_

_"I want to say goodbye to him too."_

You realize Lexa is about to come your way, and because you don't want to be caught eavesdropping on something that sounds like none of your business, you hurry back down the stairs soundlessly like the ninja you are. 

You take a seat on the floor up against the couch picking up your tablet to entertain yourself. You never turn it on, though, because what you just heard has made you curious and also a little concerned. 

Lexa enters the studio shortly after. "He's asleep?" 

You shrug, trying to act normal and _not_ like someone who just accidentally eavesdropped on her. 

"Uh, I was going to take him home because I knew he needed a nap..." Lexa takes a deep breath, as if something is weighing her down. 

"You okay, Lex?" 

"Uh... Yeah... Yes." She looks at the sleeping form of Samuel and frowns.

"You don't look okay. Wanna talk about?" 

She takes a seat on the floor next to you. "Promise you won't make a big deal out of it."

"I promise. Scouts honor and all that. Talk to me." You swear that if she doesn't start spilling the beans anytime soon you're gonna force her... you'll find a way... tell Bellamy on her or something. 

"Lunch was nice and we talked about us. I told her I wanted to give it a shot but that I can't promise her more than that and she actually understands that Sam comes first. We decided to go really slow, no labels, just... be..."

"I think that sounds like a good idea, Lex."

You watch her turn her head to look at Samuel. "Do you regret it?" you ask her. 

"No." 

You know she's telling the truth when she smiles softly. You haven't seen her smile like this in a long time. Not since Costia. You realize that maybe Lexa is more than just smitten with Clarke and so you make a note to turn down the meddling because Lexa is already in deep and you don't want her to run away from it. She needs to do this in her pace, you know her well enough to know when to stand down. 

"I don't know how to just be friends with her," she sighs, "so I'm giving it a shot and it terrifies me."

"I understand," you tell her. 

"Clarke is... Will you do me a favor, O?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"I can't always be there for Clarke... because of Sam... Could you look out for her when I'm not there?" 

Ah, so that's what this is about. Clarke is upset about something and Lexa doesn't want to leave her but she has to because she needs to get Samuel home. 

"Of course. Me, Lincoln, Raven and Monty, we're all here for her if she needs us. She's in good hands, I promise."

"Thank you," she nods at nothing in particular. It's one of her tells; it's something she does when she tries to pull herself up. 

"Listen, you and Sam can stay for as long as you want. Linc is out all day and Rae and Clarke were gonna come over for dinner anyway... It's up to you, either way, Clarke will be in good hands." 

She looks at you and then back at Samuel and you can tell she's contemplating this offer. "Okay," she says, "I'll let him sleep and I'll decide later if we're going home or staying. Is that okay?" 

"Of course, Lex. I told you, you're always welcome to stay."

"Okay, are you coming back up?" she says, getting back up on her feet. 

"Yeah, your kid is boring when he's sleeping," you say, earning a chuckle.

__________

#### LEXA

Clarke is still in the kitchen when you and Octavia come back upstairs. She's leaning against the counter where you left her, a sad mess, but now she's looking at Samuel's animal doodles and she's smiling when she looks up catching your eyes. It shouldn't be this easy – but it is – and just like that her smile melts away the tension in your body. 

"So..." You walk towards her, loosening the tie around your neck with one hand. "As it turns out SuperBoy is not invincible after all. A comfortable couch was enough to take him out."

Clarke's smile grows bigger and her dimples appear and they melt something inside your body, too. 

"I'm letting him sleep, so I'll be staying a little longer. You okay?" You ask her, searching her eyes for the truth because you know she'll shrug it off.

"I am," she says and you still see a little bit of sadness in her eyes but in general it's overshadowed by a calm that wasn't there when you went to get Samuel. A part of you reasons that Samuel's doodles may have had something to do with it. It's a theory you can't rule out at all. Anything Samuel creates always makes your day brighter, so why wouldn't it have that effect on Clarke, too? 

"So...no trouble here?" You throw in one of your half smirks to lighten up the mood and she takes the bait like you hoped she would.

"Well... I suppose that depends on whether you're gonna take off your tie or let it hang like that," she takes a step closer to you and as she twirls the end of your tie around one hand she husks, "all... loose." She bites the corner of her lip and the way she looks at you, you're quite certain she's challenging you to keep it on _just_ so that she can justify her calling you a troublemaker.

She needs to stop biting her lip like that or else you will lose it completely. You're not giving her this win, so you gently pry the tie out of her grip and loosen the tie just enough to slide the noose over your head. You make sure to hold her gaze as you slide it over _her_ head fastening it just enough so that the knot hangs right above her cleavage.

You probably shouldn't have done that.

_Damn._

"I told you, I am no such thing, Clarke." This time you throw in a full-on cocky smirk because you can tell she's fighting the blush. 

"Don't mind me, I'm just innocently walking about my own kitchen here," Octavia says from behind you, clearly meant to tease the both of you.

When you can't fight the blush either, Clarke barks a bright laughter and leans in to kiss you on the cheek before walking by you to take a seat by the table. 

Your left cheek tingles where her fingertips caressed you and you still feel the burn from her lips against your right cheek. You almost don't notice how fast your heart is racing, it seems like it's been running wild all day, and you wonder if it'll ever settle in a normal pace again. When you turn around and catch Clarke's eyes you're not so sure it will. 

 

//

 

Samuel wakes up about an hour later and he comes stumbling like a drunk man into the kitchen yawning so much he nearly trips over his own feet. He lazily runs up to you and you pick him up on your lap, and as he snuggles into you, you wrap your arms around him. A just awoken and still sleepy Samuel is one of your favorites. This Samuel is a cuddler, one you can't get enough of. You know he'll grow out of it sooner or later so you drink it in any chance you get. 

"Hey Sam," you greet him, placing a kiss on his black curls hoping he has forgotten that he's mad at you. 

"Mama?" He whispers. 

"Yes, Sam?"

"Clarke is still here..." He tells you, still whispering, but loud enough so that everyone hears it. 

"Yes, she is." You lean your chin on top of his head as you grin at Clarke who looks absolutely smitten with your kid. 

Samuel still has sleepy eyes, still closed, as he snuggles further into your embrace and you can feel his happy grin against your chest. 

Samuel is obviously smitten with Clarke too. 

 

//

 

You and Samuel stays for dinner and Samuel insist that he sits next to Clarke. The teasing looks Raven and Octavia give the both of you seem to have no end. Samuel wants to stay and hang out with his Auntie O and his new best friend Clarke, but he doesn't object when you insist that you need to go home. 

Clarke follows you out and gives the both of you a hug goodbye. She ruffles Samuel's hair until he's a fit of giggles and she tells you, “Thank you for lunch, I'll text you later.”

You and Samuel walk hand in hand down the street and around the corner, matching black jeans and white shirts. Samuel still has his dusty blue tie on, but you didn't ask for your green tie back. It looked good on Clarke; it looked good on her cleavage, too, so you decided to _not_ mention it.

With a goofy grin on your lips and the memory of Clarke's warm body against yours, you lift Samuel up to sit on your shoulders and you pick up your pace. A pace that fits better with your racing heart. 

 

//

 

It's been a long day and Samuel is finally asleep. You take a quick shower and slip into a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. Bellamy is out and so you have the apartment to yourself which means you, a cup of tea, Netflix and maybe a nap on the couch. 

You feel different. It's an odd thing because you're the same person as you were when you woke up this morning but still you feel different. 

Flashes of today's events take it upon them themselves to continually flood your mind with Clarke's smile, her dimples, her bright blue eyes, her golden hair, her and Samuel having fun… Clarke. It's all Clarke. 

You don't even try to stop them, the images. 

You pick up your phone to look at the photo you snapped of Clarke waiting for you by the fountain. Clarke in her beautiful summer dress leaning against the fountain, her smile outshining everything else on the photo. 

You feel like a creep having taken the photo without her knowledge, so you send it to her. 

**You:**  
_[photo attached]_  
_I don't mean to brag but I spent an amazing day with this gorgeous woman. I hope you had a great day too. -L_

You place the phone on the coffee table and start the movie. Five minutes in, you forget what movie you're watching because your eyes keep sliding towards the phone. 

How is it possible to miss someone you've only known for a week?

Because that someone is Clarke, that's why. 

Wishing Clarke was sitting next to you right now is _not_ taking things slow. You spent most of the day with her, it should be plenty to go for a while, but it's not. 

You wouldn't mind a movie night with Clarke. Even Samuel would love it. But you don't invite someone like Clarke over for a movie night without it meaning much more than what you're ready for. She'd stay once Samuel was put to bed and eventually she'd probably spend the night too.

There's one big problem, though, and that's Samuel. You need to make sure he's alright with you bringing Clarke into his life like this. You need to make sure that if Clarke _does_ spend the night he won't have a problem with her being here when he wakes up the next morning. You also need to make sure that if Clarke does enter his life, she won't leave abruptly so Samuel feels abandoned again. 

Mostly, it's important that Samuel knows you're not trying to replace Costia. 

Costia.

Your heart is torn between still missing her but also knowing that she would've liked Clarke too. You _know_ that she would want you to find someone else to make you happy, someone for Samuel to rely on too. That's the selfless person she was. That's why you loved her so much. 

Clarke does make you happy. You haven't felt this alive since Costia, and when Clarke looks at you, you aren't afraid to admit that it feels good. It feels like something you never want to let go of. 

She makes Samuel happy too. You've never seen him bond with someone so fast and you trust her with him. 

Costia would've approved of that, you're sure of it. 

Your phone vibrates against the coffee table and it sets off a number of reactions in your body. Firstly, there's the grin that tugs on your lips. Secondly, there's the warm buzz that spreads through your body. Thirdly, there's the racing heart taking off again. It seems a package deal that comes with being smitten with Clarke Griffin. 

You feel a little stupid, but it’s happened so often lately that you almost don't care anymore. 

**SuperGirl**  
_[photo attached]_  
_I did actually. I have one of those gorgeous women myself. MY gorgeous woman took me out to lunch today and made me feel special, AND to top it all, she brings me just the right kind of trouble ;)_

Your eyes widen and your cheeks blush instantly as you see the attached photo. Clarke took a selfie, a smirk on her lips and your tie still hanging loosely around her neck. She angled the photo perfectly to capture the tie knot hanging just above her cleavage and yes, the photo shows just enough cleavage to make you a flustered mess.

 _Well, damn._

Okay, two can play this game. 

**You:**  
_I think YOU'RE the trouble, Clarke, sending me photos like that._

**SuperGirl:**  
_Whatever do you mean, Lexa._

No no, she's using your lines against you and you have no comeback whatsoever. 

That never happens. 

_Never._

**You:**  
_What I mean is I'm kinda jealous of that tie right now ;)_

**SuperGirl:**  
_I don't blame you, we're getting quite cosy here, me and that tie._

**You:**  
_It's one lucky tie, MY lucky tie, in fact. I can only hope you'll save some of that trouble for me._

**SuperGirl:**  
_We'll see ;)_

**You:**  
_Guess we will :) Thank you for a lovely day, Clarke._

**SuperGirl:**  
_I had a lovely day too. Thank you for lunch._

You don't know how much of the movie you missed while texting Clarke; it could've started over an infinite numbers of times for all you care. Accepting it's a lost cause to catch up on it, you instead turn off the TV. Deciding on going to bed early, you're not entirely sure that you'll be able to fall asleep with the image of your tie around Clarke's neck behind your eyelids. 

In fact, you may even need another shower; a cold one this time. 

She’s indeed trouble that one, but you welcome it.


	7. Rough Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again :)  
> Some of you really like the flirty, confident Lexa. Some of you are curious to know more of Clarke's past. Ask and you shall receive (well, technically I wrote this a long time ago, but still...)
> 
> In my humble opinion, this chapter is a big one (not just in count of words)... Let me know what you think.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. kudos to **[KellyDeaux](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux)** for beta'ing  <3  
> 

#### CLARKE

A week ago you hated Mondays; that mundane first day of the week that reminded you of how indifferent your life had become, making coffee all day long. Come Fridays and band hangouts, you'd feel some sort of revelation reminding you that you do have great things in this new life of yours; music and friends. You ride on that wave of excitement throughout the weekend until Monday hits you again restarting the cycle.

Today, however, you love Mondays. Well, you love this particular Monday because, one, you're quitting your job at Grounders Coffee and, two, you have a contract meeting at Polis Zoo. It feels a little like finally adding the last piece to a jigsaw puzzle and a lot like finally having control over your own life again. 

Lexa woke you up with a dinging of your phone this morning and that's another thing you like about this Monday. 

**Troublemaker:**  
_[photo attached]_  
_Goodmorning Sunshine. I'm having a great morning, trouble-free and all, I hope you are too._

Your face breaks into a mix of a sheepish grin and a mess of red cheeks because the photo is one of Lexa's sweaty post-workout selfies, her cocky half smile framed in the golden morning light, one earbud hanging strategically at the edge of her sports bra. 

_Well, damn._

**You:**  
_I was until you sent me that photo, Troublemaker._

**Troublemaker:**  
_I told you, it's sweat, Clarke._

**You:**  
_I thought we already established that I have a thing for your post-workout selfies which means you play dirty, Lexa._

**Troublemaker:**  
_Haha, maybe. Consider it payback for the tie selfie :)_

**You:**  
_You mean the cleavage selfie._

**Troublemaker:**  
_...semantics._

**You:**  
_Sure it is ;)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_You started it, Clarke, I was merely wishing you a great day :)_

**You:**  
_Well, I guess you have that effect on me. Have a great day too. Say hi to Sam for me._

**Troublemaker:**  
_[photo attached]_  
_Sam says hi back :)_

You run your thumb over the screen, over the attached photo of Samuel. His morning black curls are all over the place, his eyes are still small from sleep, but his smile is wide and bright as he waves to the camera. Yeah, you’ve got a thing for that kid too.

You scroll back up to Lexa's selfie and not for the second time this morning are you biting your lip trying to control the jolt of excitement that rages through your body.

That's what she does to you. 

You scroll through your text messages; not just today’s, but all of them. You don't need a mirror to know that you're grinning like a fool. You're done denying what she does to you. In fact, you won't even deny that you kind of miss her right now. You want to ask her when you can see her again, but that's the exact opposite of taking things slow. Resisting the urge, you put the phone back down and get up to take a shower; and if that shower is a bit more to the cold side, well, no one would blame you.

__________

#### LEXA

Your day starts the best of ways with a good morning run, some flirty texting with a gorgeous woman and a happy morning Samuel. You don't remember having had such a great morning in a very long time. 

You go to work, you enter the gym whistling that Suit & Tie song that for some reason is stuck in your head, you greet Lincoln – a very frustrated looking Lincoln – and then things start going downhill. 

A pipe in the men's locker room is leaking and so you spend most of your day cleaning up the mess. You call for a plumber who doesn't show up, you call him again to yell at him. Eventually, you end up asking Lincoln for a favor, on your knees begging, because you need him to stay until the plumber is done so that you can pick up Samuel before daycare closes. Lincoln doesn't mind, but you still feel guilty because this is your area of responsibility. 

Your workout session with Lincoln doesn't happen, which sucks because you really need the distraction right now. Not only because of the chaos at the gym, but because you can't stop thinking about Clarke. 

The administrative work you usually do on Mondays doesn't happen either, which means tomorrow is going to be a bit chaotic as well, but you'll deal with that mess when it arrives. 

Dinner is a disaster. Samuel decides he doesn't like rice anymore and refuses to eat his dinner. You eventually cave and give him the strawberry yoghurt he loves just to make sure he won't wake up hungry in the middle of the night.

He refuses to take a shower and you cave then, too; you are _this close_ to yelling at him, not because he is unreasonable – for crying out loud, five-year-olds are unreasonable all the time – but because you are tired and frustrated and you need this day to end very soon. 

You cave on many of his demands today because you can't handle anymore chaos because it isn't his fault that a pipe in the men's room was leaking, because it isn't his fault that you're missing Clarke.

He refuses to go to sleep as well but you fix that with a bargain: two bedtime stories instead of one. 

It's 8:45pm when you're finally able to throw yourself on the couch, feet up on the coffee table and a heavy sigh escaping your exhausted body. You throw you head back against the cushion and close your eyes.

You're so ready for this day to be over. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you can't deny you're hoping it's a text from Clarke. Disappointment washes over you when you realize it's Bellamy letting you know he won't be home tonight. You send him a reply letting him know you saw his text. You open Clarke's text archive and scroll through the history. You pause by the photo you took of her at the fountain wishing you could see her in person. 

You really do miss Clarke.

Terribly.

You don't know the rules to this agreement of yours, you haven't actually talked about it yet, but surely, calling her would be the exact opposite of taking things slow, right? You haven't seen her in two days and damn it you miss her. 

The photos of Clarke makes it all worse, so you close your eyes to ground yourself, but it does the exact opposite as your body suddenly remembers Clarke's arms around you and her lips on yours. 

"This is ridiculous..." You tell yourself before looking back at your phone. A text isn't so bad, right? 

**You:**  
_Can I call you?_

A voice in the back of your mind says, _”Way to go, dumbass. That's what you call taking things slow?”_

Your phone buzzes in your hands, it's an incoming call from Clarke. The smile on your lips is unstoppable as you answer it. 

"Hey."

_"Hey, Lex. Thought I'd just call you instead. What's up? Everything alright?"_

Clarke's voice is heaven-sent and just what you need right now. You can basically feel the muscles in your body loosen up. You close your eyes and smile into the phone when you answer her. 

"Yeah, yes, I'm good, I'm okay, I just... I've had a rough day and I kinda needed to hear your voice... Is it okay to say that out loud?"

Clarke's voice is raspy as she chuckles in your ear and you picture her dimples showing.

_"It is. In fact, I kinda miss you a little, so I'm glad you texted me."_

You picture her blushing lightly during her confession. A blushing Clarke is an adorable Clarke. 

"I guess this is a win-win then."

_"So it seems. Wanna tell me about your rough day?"_

"Not much to tell, really. There was a pipe leak at the gym and I've been running around like a madman all day because of it... and then Sam decided that today was a good day to let out his inner unreasonable five-year-old... I am so. Tired. Clarke."

_"A pipe leak AND an unreasonable five-year-old? How are you still alive, woman?"_

Clarke's light teasing is just the right amount to make you forget about your bad day. 

"Just barely," you chuckle. 

_"I'm sorry you had a rough day. Anything I can do to make it better?"_

You bite your lip hesitantly. "You already did," you admit and you tell yourself it's not a declaration of love even though it feels a little like it. "Just... maybe tell me about your day?"

_"Well, a gorgeous woman woke me up with a sweaty selfie and I guess that wasn't too bad.”_

"Oh, really. She sounds like a keeper... if that's your thing, of course."

_"She is."_

"Good for you. Sounds like a great day."

_”It is. I quit my job at Grounders and I had a meeting with my new boss at the zoo."_

"Yeah? How did that go?"

_"Really well. They want me to start on Monday and I'm so excited about it. I literally can't wait."_

"Haha, I can hear that. I'm excited too, you know. I know it's really important to you so I'm glad it finally happened."

_"Thank you, Lex."_

"So, are you completely done at Grounders or..." 

_"Yeah. I got someone to cover the rest of my shifts, thought I'd take this week off before starting the new job."_

"Good choice. Got any interesting things lined up for this week of freedom?"

_"Well... No."_

There's that chuckle again and you picture her bright blue eyes shine with the same softness. Suddenly hearing her voice is not enough – you feel an urge to see her too. 

"No? If you get bored, swing by the gym, I'll give you a free private session."

Your cocky suggestion makes her laugh and you wish she was here or you were there so you could witness the bright laughter vibrate through her body and break into that brilliant smile of hers. 

_"Hahaha, well if I do swing by it's only to watch you give me a private show."_

You picture her wink at you. It's almost like she's here. Almost. Well, no, not really.

"Mh, having a gorgeous woman ogle me while I do push-ups doesn't sound too bad, actually... Yeah, we can work something out."

You tease her. You love teasing her. You love it when _she_ teases _you_. 

_"That sounds like trouble to me."_

"Well, you started it."

Clarke's reply is a humming sound, like she won't deny it, any of it. It grows into a comfortable silence in which you find yourself listening to her breathing through the phone. It calms you down to a point where you're not sure if you're still awake. 

_"Lexa?"_

Clarke's voice is soft and cautious when she interrupts the silence and you wonder if maybe she was listening to your breathing, too. 

"Mh?"

_"Tell me what you're thinking?"_

You're thinking that you wish she was here right next to you so you could hug her and maybe even kiss her, but you're not sure it's something you should share because saying it out loud makes it _real_ and that terrifies you, so you go with a milder version. 

"I'm thinking we should have lunch one of these days."

_"Tomorrow?"_

"Yeah, I think I can make that work. Can I text you about details tomorrow? I need to check with Lincoln's schedule."

_"Of course."_

"Clarke?"

_"Yeah?"_

"I kinda missed you too."

_"Don't hesitate to call me if that happens again."_

"Thank you, Clarke. You too. I better hang up... Talk to you tomorrow?"

_"Deal."_

"Bye, Clarke"

_"Bye, Lex"_

__________

#### CLARKE

"Hey, Clarke! Are you finally joining my spinning class?" Lincoln greets you with a teasing grin as you enter Ark Gym. 

"I don't think so, Linc," you laugh. You're here to pick up Lexa. That's the _only_ reason you step a foot inside a gym.

"She's here to join _my_ class, Linc. Endurance and Stamina." 

You turn around towards Lexa's voice and there she is leaning smugly against the front desk in her white washed boyfriend jeans hanging low on her hips, a dark green loose tank top hanging over a black sports bra, her hair is up in a messy high ponytail and her green eyes... you missed those green eyes.

So you stare a little. 

Well, a lot, actually. 

You're not subtle about it either. 

"It's a master class, Clarke, not even Lincoln can keep up." She smirks at you as she pushes off the front desk and walks towards you, shining with confidence. 

Yeah, you're still staring. 

Until Lincoln barks out a laughter, "Smooth, Lex. You broke her."

If this is Lexa breaking you she can break you anytime. 

Lexa's cocky smirk turns into a soft smile as she stops in front of you. "Hey," she says and it may possibly be your new favorite sound. 

"Hey," you breathe, "ready?"

"I was born ready," she says gently, grinning. "Just... one thing." 

She cups your cheek, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. This kiss is over way too soon for your liking. Someone wolf-whistles, so Lexa barks a "Oh, shut up, Gus!", her cheeks clearly as red as yours feel. Hurriedly, she guides you back out of the entrance doors. 

"I'm sorry about that, I forgot we weren't alone," she says, guiding you across the street. 

"Don't ever apologize for kissing me," you tell her. 

"Alright," she chuckles. "There's a really nice diner around the corner, would that work for you?" 

"Lead the way." You've barely spent five minutes in her presence and your cheeks are already hurting from excessive smiling. 

The diner is the small and homey kind, and Lexa greets the waitress like an old friend, so it must be a place she goes to often. She guides you to a secluded table in the corner, and when you ask her to recommend a dish she says, "the whole menu is outstanding, Clarke, but if I must pick one, I'd go with the ham and cheese omelette," so that's what you're ordering along with a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. Lexa narrows her eyes playfully at you as she orders the exact same. 

"What's that look for?" You ask her and she tells you, "I should've recommended you something else. Now our orders are the same."

"And that's a problem? Is it like an OCD thing?" You ask, playfully. 

"Well... No, it's just..." She bites her lip and you get the feeling she's contemplating whether or not to finish the sentence. 

You raise an eyebrow at her questioningly and she shakes her head softly. "Nevermind," she says. 

A sadness suddenly clouds her eyes and you think that maybe whatever she was about to tell you was about her wife, so you tell her, "You can talk to me about her, Lex, if you want to. If not, well, that's fine, too. Just, don't hold back because you think it's inappropriate, okay?" 

Lexa's eyes are a battlefield as her gaze drifts sideways, staring at something outside the window. "Costia always ordered after me to make sure we didn't pick the same dish," she pauses to take a deep breath before looking back at you. "That way she made sure to try two different dishes because she always stole food off my plate." 

It's a sad kind of softness that takes over her eyes. You recognize it more than you’d like to admit. Thinking about your dad does the same to you, so you know it's not actually because she's sad, it's just because she misses her. You miss your dad too. Every day.

"And you let her because you liked sharing things with her, right?" 

She nods. 

"My dad was the same," you say, taking the attention away from Costia, "He would've loved this place and he would've let me steal fries from his dish too."

"He sounds like a wise man," Lexa says, and is that a smirk? Yes it is. 

"What's that supposed to mean, Troublemaker," you challenge her. 

"Nothing." She holds her hands up in a defensive stance, "It's just... I get this vibe off you. I bet you'd throw a tantrum if he told you no... like an unreasonable five-year-old." Yes, she's definitely smirking. 

"I did," you grin at her. 

Her laughter is interrupted by the waitress placing your orders in front of you. You're almost drooling, that's how good it smells. You immediately take a bite and it's so delicious you almost moan, or maybe you did, because Lexa is looking at you like you did. 

"This is really good," you hum. 

"I can tell," she smirks. 

You shrug it off, she can tease you all she wants, this is too good to be embarrassed about. 

"So... speaking of unreasonable five-year-olds. How is Sam?" You kind of miss that handsome boy too. 

"Oh, he was the happiest idiot this morning... Like yesterday never happened."

"I can't picture it."

"What?" 

"Sam throwing a tantrum." 

"Well, that's because he's totally smitten with you so he's always on his best behavior around you." 

"I'm kinda smitten with him too."

For a second, you're not sure you're allowed to say that out loud, but when Lexa takes a sip of her orange juice, you get the feeling she's trying to hide her wide smile. Surely, that means your comment was okay. 

There's a moment of comfortable silence where the both of you finish your food while stealing glances at each other. 

"Clarke?" Lexa asks quietly. 

"Yeah?" 

"I want to ask you things but I'm not sure if it's okay." 

"You can ask me anything. I might not answer all of it, though," you tell her, because you're afraid she's going to ask about your past. 

"That's fair. I just... I want to get to know you better. Can I ask where you grew up?"

"Arkadia." 

"Did you live in Arkadia before you moved here?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask about your family?"

The degree of cautiousness she handles this conversation with melts your heart. You lean forward to place a hand on hers on the table, and you smile at her to let her know it's okay, all of it. 

"There's my mom, that's it. She's a doctor back in Arkadia. We've never been close, so leaving her behind was actually easier than I thought it would be."

She nods, like she understands. 

"Do you miss it, Arkadia?"

"Uh... I miss my dad, not such much the city, no." 

"This is not a question... I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to tell me more about your past and why you didn't feel safe back in Arkadia."

You nod, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded, and you’re grateful that she continues talking.

"My parents died when I was a kid and O and Bell's mom adopted me. I don't remember them, my parents. I mean... I have a photo of them pinned to the wall in my bedroom, so I remember what they look like, but mama Blake and O and Bell are my family, for all I know."

You stare at the crumbs on your plate listening to Lexa tell you about her family. You don't know why she does it, but it makes you feel better nonetheless. 

"I met Costia when I was twenty-one. I got six years with her. And Sam. She was a nurse, she went to war... I... "

Lexa stops talking so you look back up at her, your hand is still on hers, so you entangle your fingers with hers and gives them a little squeeze. 

She looks back up at you and says, "It was supposed to be her last run. They needed her to train the new generation. She didn't come home." She gives your fingers a squeeze, too. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I told you that." 

"Don't." You seek her eyes. "Don't apologize. Thank you for telling me."

She nods, her next breath of air is shaky. 

"My ex went to war too." You blurt out and it terrifies you because now you opened the bag of Finn; the bag you swore to never open again. She looks at you like she _knows_. She may not know the exact circumstances, but at least the part of having a significant other going off to war. 

"Finn came back a different person... Uh... PTSD?" You look from the plate in front of you and up at her hoping to find a little strength to continue. She nods, because she knows and you don't have to explain. 

"When my dad died, it hit me really hard... And Finn didn't know how to deal with that, so he got angry... a lot..." 

Lexa's hand tightens around yours. "Clarke," she whispers, and you can hear the fear in her voice but it's nothing compared to the fear you felt every time you came home later than he expected. 

"Did he hurt you?" She asks through gritted teeth. 

You don't answer her, but you don't have to because the tears on your cheeks speak loud enough. 

She throws money on the table and says, "Come on, let's get out of here." She grabs your hand and pulls you outside. She keeps pulling you until the pavement below your feet becomes grass. The park around the corner, you assume. 

"Can I hug you?" She asks and you nod, so she pulls you in, comforting you like the other day in Octavia's kitchen, making you feel safe.

You have nothing left to fight with. Your secret is out which means you have to deal with it now. You want to take it all back, but instead your mouth opens like it has a mind of its own, and it says, "The first time, he apologized and told me it wouldn't happen again and I believed him." 

Lexa keeps hugging you and for some reason you begin to believe that everything is safe to say out loud in her embrace, so you let your mouth continue. 

"The second time, I blamed myself and I tried drinking it away..." You sniffle and she runs a hand up and down your back. All your secrets that spills from your lips leaves a void of nothingness in its place, and Lexa fills it up with warmth and comfort. It feels really good, so you don't stop. 

"The third time..." Shit, this is hard. You pull in new fresh air in your lungs and try again, "The third time, I ended up in the hospital... And I was so drunk I couldn't feel the pain. That night I promised myself it was over. So I left."

She releases her grip on you to cup your cheeks. She wipes your tears away, and when you open your eyes you realize she's crying too. "I'm s-sorry," you stutter because this day was supposed to be a good day and you ruined it. 

"Clarke. No. Don't EVER apologize for your feelings."

You observe her while she looks at you, her eyes jumping between yours. You sense anger and pain. You don't want her to feel like that, not because of you. 

"Does he know where you are?" She sounds scared too. 

"No. I don't think so. I changed my number and I chose a city I've never been to before."

"Okay. Good. You have to tell me if he ever contacts you, Clarke. Promise me!" 

"I promise," you hear yourself say, choking on the words before breaking down completely. Lexa catches your wobbly body, and before you know it she guides you onto a bench.

__________

#### LEXA

You don't remember ever having been so angry before. You've been heartbroken, sad, hurt, frustrated... all of it maxed to your limits. _This angry? Never!_

If that guy ever shows up around here... 

Clarke is the purest of hearts, she doesn't deserve to carry this pain. She doesn't deserve to be beaten, to be treated with so much disrespect. Clarke is too precious to have that dark a past. 

Goddamnit, it's not fair. 

You take a seat next to her on the bench. The golden sunny afternoon is a bitter contrast against the bubble you and Clarke are in right now. You don't care; it could be raining buckets and you'd still sit here next to Clarke, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, hugging her close, keeping her safe. 

Because she lets you. 

Because she deserves it. 

Because you want to. 

Because you can't help yourself; you need Clarke to feel safe.

You sit there until she stops shaking and then you tell her, "Thank you for trusting me."

"Yeah, sorry I ruined lunch," she mumbles in a sigh. 

"You didn't. It's the most memorable lunch I've had in a very long time, so thank you." You tease her lightly, trying to ease up the mood a bit. For her sake. 

"Shut up," she chuckles. 

"Do you have plans for tonight?" You want to make sure she's not alone. You know how it feels to open up old wounds like that. Being alone is the last thing she needs, especially if she used to drink it away. 

"...no." Clarke's voice is laced with fear and pain, and you realize she doesn't want to be alone either. 

"I need to go pick up Sam soon, and then Lincoln and I teach a class at the gym. I think it might cheer you up to be in the audience. So… unless you have a better solution I'm kidnapping you for the rest of the day."

"What class?"

"You'll see," you grin. "Come on." You pull her up from the bench, cupping her cheeks once more, leaving a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

 

//

 

Samuel greets you hugging your legs. He doesn't see Clarke at first, but when he does, you swear his eyes are twinkling. He lets go of your leg and runs towards her screaming, "Clarke!!!" She kneels and catches him in a hug and _damn it, it melts your heart_. 

"Hey SuperBoy," Clarke laughs. "Did you grow since the last time I saw you? You look taller." 

"Uh, yes!" Samuel beams as he straightens up and puffs his chest out. _That_ he gets from Bellamy. Undeniably.

Clarke winks at him and ruffles his hair, but Samuel stares thoughtfully at Clarke and you're not quite sure why. You watch him place his hands on each side of her head and Clarke looks as surprised as you probably do. Then he pulls her closer and kisses her on the forehead. You _think_ you know what this is about, but you need to hear it from him. 

"What was that for, Sam?" You ask him. 

"Mom says you need to kiss the hurt away," he says matter-of-factly. 

"Sam... That's very kind of you." 

_That's_ Costia's big heart. Of all the things he's inherited from her, this is your favorite. 

Samuel looks at Clarke again, "Does it still hurt?" He says, because Clarke is crying, not much, just a single tear tracing down her cheek. You have a pretty hard time holding them back yourself right now. 

"No," Clarke smiles. "Thank you Sam. It was just what I needed." 

You watch Clarke wipe her cheeks as she straightens up again. Then she ruffles his hair once more and he grins up at her, beaming with pride. 

He reaches out to hold her hand and says, "Are you going to Kids Gym too?" 

"Uh, I think I am," Clarke says, looking at you with a questioning look and you confirm with a nod. 

"Cool," he grins, leaning into Clarke. 

"It looks like you got that under control, SuperGirl," you smirk at her, nudging your head towards Samuel's hand in hers. 

"So it seems. Thank you," she says, and you make a mental note that Samuel is the perfect medicine for Clarke's sadness for future reference. 

"You're welcome," you tell her.

__________

#### CLARKE

You owe Lexa great things – possibly your life – for insisting that you stayed to watch this. Kids Gym is by far the most adorable thing you've ever seen. If not for the giggling children playing games, then for Lexa and Lincoln in matching uniforms, not unlike a basketball uniform, a fluffy headband and the best part: war paint around their eyes. 

They start off with what you assume is a tradition. The children line up in two rows in front of Lincoln and Lexa who paint a streak of war paint on their cheeks. Then Lexa walks, hands clasped behind her back and chin held high, down the row of children, eyeing each and everyone of them thoughtfully. She stops at the end, turns on her heel and says with authority in her voice, "Are you ready, my warriors?"

"YES COMMANDER!" The children scream, bright smiles on their faces. 

"Then let's GO!" Lexa grins, lowering her stance as the children run towards her, giving her a high five as they pass. They high five Lincoln too before erupting in a fit of laughter.

Watching Lexa interacting with children like this warms your heart and tugs at your lips. For a while you even forget you’re sad. 

They play soccer with a soft foam ball and when Samuel scores a goal he runs to you, a wide grin on his face as he lifts his hand for a high-five and your heart almost can't take his cuteness. You high-five him and tell him, "Good job, SuperBoy," before he runs back to the game. 

After class, Samuel pretend fights with Lincoln who falls dramatically to the floor in defeat and Samuel cheers with both hands raised. 

"He really likes you," Lexa says as she slides onto the floor next to you. 

"I really like him too, Commander," you tell her. She smirks at you but you can tell she's trying to hide a blush. "So, why the war paint?" 

"It helps the insecure children so they feel more safe. They can hide behind it. We teach them about fair play, that we're all on the same team and we help each other. The war paint works as a bond between them."

"I see." 

She looks at you and her eyebrows have this concerned crease in the middle, it makes you suddenly awfully self-aware. 

"So... Are you okay, Clarke?"

"I think so." The thing is, when someone is there next to you, you're okay, but when you have a minute to yourself, memories of Angry Finn floods your mind. You've done a good job ignoring it for a long time, but opening up the wound today has brought it all back. You're afraid of the nightmares, but you don't want Lexa to know that. She can't help you anyways. 

"I don't want you to be alone tonight, Clarke." Lexa says, as if she can read your mind. 

You want to tell her that she doesn't have to worry about you, that you're going to be okay, but you can't, because you don't believe it yourself. Instead, you say nothing. 

"Clarke... Please let me help you." 

"Lex..." 

"I'd tell you I know that Octavia always has her door open, but that's not good enough for me right now. I've got a feeling you don't want her to know about Finn, right?"

You nod defeatedly. It's not that you don't trust her, it's just... The band is your safe haven. Band time equals a world where Finn doesn't exist, it's what kept you strong the past couple of months, and you're not ready to let go of that just yet. 

"So let me help you. Just for tonight."

"What do you suggest?"

"Well... For starters, it's Bellamy's cooking day so he'll probably cook mac and cheese because it's Sam's favorite." 

She nudges you with her elbow and it makes you feel lighter, a fragile laughter bubbling in the corners of your lungs. 

"Let's see. Samuel likes to watch cartoons between dinner and bedtime. Come to think of it, you, mac and cheese and post-dinner cartoons sound like Samuel's dream date, actually," she grins. 

"Mine too," you wink at her. 

"That's because you haven't been wooed by me yet,” she husks. 

"Is that so," you cock an eyebrow. 

"Mhmm," she hums confidently. "But tonight I'll let Samuel woo you and I'll be a good gentlewoman and take the couch while you take my bed."

"I can't ask you to do that, Lex."

"You're not. I'm offering. Please accept."

"If you insist–"

"I do insist," she interrupts you. "We can swing by your place on the way and you can pick up whatever you need for a sleepover at Sam's place," she grins. 

The low chuckle escaping your lips sounds a little like you're feeling better already. She gets up, offering a hand to pull you up. Once back on your feet, and as she walks back towards Lincoln, you call for her. 

“Lex?”

“Yeah?”

"Thank you."

“Anytime.”


	8. Sleepover At Sam's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow - I'm amazed how well you all responded to the reveal of Clarke's past (Finn). I'm not gonna lie, I was a little concerned. But I'm glad you're on board, because - and I'm sure this is pretty obvious, thus not a spoiler - it's not the end of it. The things we run from have a way of catching up on us. 
> 
> Some of you are almost even rooting for him to show up so Lexa can kick his ass ;)  
> I'll let you conjure up crazy plot ideas on that for a little while (if you want to share them, I'm right here :D). 
> 
> On that note, here's chapter eight. We're picking up where last chapter ended, so get ready for a sleepover at Sam's ;)  
> I love this chapter for many reasons; I'd love to hear what your favorite part was.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

**You:**  
_Hey Bell, Clarke is joining us for dinner and staying for the night (I'm taking the couch). I need you to do me a favor and not be a brat and ask into it._

**Uncle Bellamy:**  
_Uh, okay. Is she okay?_

**You:**  
_She is now. Between the two of us (and I mean that!) I don't feel good about leaving her alone tonight._

**Uncle Bellamy:**  
_Of course. Don't worry about it._

You sit in Clarke's tiny apartment space, in her living room, on her couch, waiting for Clarke to pack a few things for the night. The living room just barely holds enough space for the couch, a coffee table, a small flat screen TV, a western guitar in the corner and a small section of book shelves. 

Samuel is next to you swinging his feet restlessly against the couch as if he hadn't just spent an entire hour running around in fifth gear. 

"Mama?" 

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Look," he whispers as he points towards the kitchen. You look in the appointed direction and squint your eyes to better focus, trying to figure out what it is that caught his eye. 

"What is it, Sam?" You give up. 

"The penguin," he whispers again as if speaking out loud would scare it away. 

_Now_ you see it. It's pinned to the refrigerator door, the penguin Samuel drew for Clarke. 

"It's the prettiest penguin I've ever seen," Clarke says having just entered the living room, and Samuel beams at her again. "That's the best spot in the apartment right there, Sam, because I can see it from the couch AND I can see it when I'm in the kitchen." 

Samuel looks back at you, you've never seen him this proud before, and for the briefest of moments you allow yourself to picture the three of you as a family. It pulls at your heartstrings, not only because it feels all too familiar in the safe kind of way, but also because you never pictured a family without Costia. 

Not until now.

It awakens an unrest in your body, and if it wasn't because you've felt that unrest again and again ever since you laid eyes on Clarke, gotten used to what she does to you, you would've surely been panicking right now. 

"Lexa?" Clarke interrupts your daydreaming. 

"Mh?" 

"You okay?"

Your thoughts aren't of the kind that you share with someone you're taking things slow with so instead you nod and when she smiles at you, you smile back. 

That's what she does to you. 

Your inner widow is troubled. Your inner high school kid is _in_ trouble, the good kind. You welcome the good kind, because you've struggled with the bad kind for too long and you're tired.

So maybe if you don't think about...

__________

#### BELLAMY

Octavia called you the other day to tell on Lexa. She loves to meddle and gossip, and she _had to call you_ because she needed to tell someone. Ironically, you know she already told Lincoln. That's Octavia. 

According to Octavia, _"Lexa is going slow with Clarke, like, no labels or anything, but Bellamy, you gotta see the heart eyes, it's so gross."_

Octavia has a flair for the dramatic, so you never really know exactly how much she exaggerates, but watching Clarke and Lexa continually stealing glances over _THE_ best mac and cheese in the world – if you might say so yourself – you realize that Octavia couldn't exaggerate this even if she tried.

They don't even notice you smirking at them. 

The big brother in you can't wait to get Lexa alone. This is not to be silenced. This is perfect teasing material. She's going to be _so mad_ at you, oh man, you can't wait. You're grinning like a fool and they don't even notice. 

"So, Clarke... What's new?" You're getting bored, so you try to break whatever spell they're both under. 

"Well, I start working at Polis Zoo on Monday... That's about it," Clarke says. 

"Yeah, congrats on that if I haven't told you already." You probably haven't. You haven't seen her since the day at the playground. 

"Thank you," she smiles. 

"Octavia said you have a gig at the music festival next month?" 

"Yep, we don't know the schedule yet, but I miss performing, so I don't care when and where as long as it's live and there's an audience.” Clarke smiles, her enthusiasm reminds you of all the times Octavia came home to play her newest recordings for you. 

Lexa's heart eyes are obnoxious, by the way. You're pretty sure she doesn't realize it herself, but leave it to you to mention it... later. 

"Let us know when you do, we'll be there, right Lexa?" You watch her struggle to tear her eyes off of Clarke and when she finally looks at you you can't help the smirk on your lips. You _live_ to make Lexa uncomfortable because she hates it. 

"Yes, of course, if I find a sitter." She clears her throat to hide the blush on her cheeks but she can't hide it from you. 

Bellamy - 1, Lexa - 0.

__________

#### CLARKE

Samuel is an inattentive eater, you've learned. He either daydreams or gets too excited about whatever he talks about so he drops his food and spills his drink. By the number of napkins Lexa gives him during dinner, you assume it's a trait she's given up on trying to fix. 

A post Kids Gym Samuel is a tired Samuel, and a tired Samuel is an unreasonable five-year-old, which means Lexa has to bargain with him to make him take a shower. The price? Cartoons before bedtime sitting next to you. Lexa had looked at you with pleading eyes when she made her offer because Samuel had mac and cheese in his hair. You had nodded your accept to her, but really, she didn't have to ask you because Samuel's presence is a gift you'll never turn down. 

Especially not today. 

You help Bellamy clean up after dinner while Lexa gives Samuel a shower. He's on his best behavior which is so unlike him, so you figure Lexa must've told him to be nice. 

"You're our guest, Clarke, take a seat, I can handle this," he says placing dirty plates next to the sink. 

"I want to help," you tell him. Sitting still makes you restless. Being _alone_ makes you anxious. 

"Well, okay then. Grab a dish towel and let's get to work." His warm smile, free from all his teasing, makes you calm. A lot, actually. 

"Did Lexa tell you... Uh..." You don't know what he knows about you staying over and you don't know how to ask him about it. You don't even know why you want to know. 

"Why you're here?"

You nod. 

"She told me not to ask into it and I'll respect that," he says, his voice trustworthy. 

You nod again. 

"I _am_ a bit concerned, though, I can't help it. I've been looking out for Lexa since Costia died, well, since her parents died... It becomes a habit. Just know that you're always welcome if you need a place to go. No questions asked."

Looking at you, he hands you the first clean plate. You're not doubting one bit that he's genuine about this. Instead of just thanking him, your mind decides it might as well spill the beans again now the gates are open anyways. 

"I left a violent ex when I moved here. I've kinda been ignoring it ever since, but for some reason I told Lexa today." You place the dry plate on the counter accepting the next one. You avoid his gaze but the energy around you tells you he's wearing the same expression Lexa was, the if-he-shows-up-here-I'll-make-sure-he-won’t-be-able-to-walk-again look. 

"Let me guess, she refused to let you be on your own tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"She's been there, terrified of being left alone with her own thoughts. I'm glad you listened to her."

There's an edge to his voice that makes the little hairs on your neck rise, and it injects into your veins disturbing thoughts of a Lexa in a place much darker than the one Finn forced you into. You don't know how bad it was for Lexa but it makes you sick to your gut just thinking about it. 

You nod. Again. It seems like the perfect answer to everything tonight. 

"You're safe, Clarke." 

"I know." You tell him, because you do feel safe. Right here, tonight, you feel safe. 

"Clarke, I'm ready now!" Samuel torpedos towards you in his Superman pj's, his black curls still damp from his shower. 

"Go, I'll finish up," Bellamy chuckles. 

You give Bellamy a smile before letting Samuel tug you by the hand into the living room. 

"Take a seat, Clarke. Part two of your dream date is about to begin," Lexa winks playfully at you. 

You take a seat in one end of the big couch and Samuel wastes no time before he settles himself onto your lap. He leans into you so you slide your arms around his body. 

It feels natural 

It feels comforting. 

It feels a little bit like home. 

The whiff of his shampoo hitting your nostrils smells a little bit like home, too. 

Your heart is as close as it can get to bursting at the seams without actually bursting, and for the briefest of moments you allow yourself to picture the three of you as a family. You're twenty-seven and the one relationship that was actually a serious one was with Finn, and even with him you never pictured yourself having kids. 

This, however. Lexa and Samuel. This gorgeous woman and this gold nugget of a little boy have awoken a part of your heart you didn't know existed. 

How does that happen? How do you meet someone in a bar, dance a little, she kisses you, she runs out on you, and eleven days later you've shared your deepest secret with her? You're so damn smitten with her, and her kid is... well, you're smitten with him too; to the point of you imagining being a part of it. 

How does that happen? 

What happened to taking things slow? 

The irony of it all is you don't want to take a step back. In fact, anything you can get, anything they want to give you, you'll take it. 

Lexa takes a seat next to you, an appropriate amount of space between you on the couch. She throws a blanket over your legs and starts the movie. You look at her and she smiles softly at you before winking at Samuel. "Wanna tell Clarke what we're watching?" 

"Penguins of Madagascar," Samuel beams as he looks up at you. 

"Good choice," you tell him, "I haven't seen that one yet."

"If you're lucky, he'll watch it with you again," Lexa informs you in a voice that tells you she's probably seen this movie at least one time too many. 

The truth is, you'd watch anything this kid wants you to watch.

__________

#### LEXA

All the fibers in your body _ache_ to throw an arm behind Clarke's shoulders. Or snake a hand under the blanket and lay it strategically close enough to accidentally brush against her thigh. Or maybe just lean into her. Something. Anything. You crave physical contact with Clarke. Because it's been too long. 

Just a subtle touch will do. 

But Samuel. 

He really likes Clarke – you do too – but being _couply_ around him is a touchy subject. 

You thought you had more time before your world of Samuel collided with your world of Clarke. You thought that you and Clarke would spend weeks, months maybe, just flirting and getting to know each other, see if it would ever become more than just a good time hanging out. 

Then you kissed her in front of Octavia's house and you brought her in to meet Samuel. Things just happened from there. Everything felt natural, even talking about Costia, even comforting Clarke when she told you about Finn. 

Eleven days. It's _crazy_ how good it feels sitting on this couch with Clarke and Samuel, how easy it would be to lean in and press a gentle kiss against her temple.

How right it would feel. 

How _right_ all of this feels. 

It seems the talk with Clarke about what you are and how to move forward might actually have to happen a lot sooner than you first anticipated.

It seems you might have to have a talk with Samuel too. You need to know if Clarke being around more will change how he feels about her. You need to make sure that he knows she's not a substitute for his mom; it will always be your main concern. 

Bellamy takes a seat next to you and throws his feet onto the coffee table. 

"Look," he whispers and when you look at him he points discreetly towards the space on the other side of you. You turn your head and what meets your eyes melts your heart. Samuel is asleep in Clarke's arms. He's positioned sideways on top of Clarke, his head snuggled in below her chin and his tiny fist holding onto the fabric of her shirt. 

Looking at Clarke, she meets you with a questioning look. "He's asleep," you whisper and then she smiles. This gorgeous woman _smiles_ and your heart begins to race again. It shouldn't be this easy but _god, it is,_ and you want to kiss her so badly for making you and your kid feel this safe. 

"You know what? I was going to turn in soon anyways. I'll tug him in so you can get some privacy," Bellamy says as he rises from his seat. 

While it shouldn't be Bellamy’s job to tug in Samuel, you also know you can't change his mind, so you tell him thank you as he gently pulls Samuel out of Clarke's grasp. 

Merely seconds later you're alone. 

Samuel's new favorite movie is still playing, but all you can hear is the persistent thudding of your heart. 

"Hey…" Clarke whispers, calling out for your attention. 

"Hey..." You whisper back, breathless by the way she looks at you. 

"Thank you... for today... and this," she tugs at the blanket in her lap, taking a deep breath. 

"No problem," you say, "come here." You lift your arm to signal for her to come closer. She leans into your embrace and you realize you've missed this. 

The warmth of her body. 

The softness of her skin. 

Her flowery perfume. 

Her hair entangled with your fingers. 

Her skin against your lips. 

The content sigh she breathes against your collarbone. 

"Lexa?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we turn off the cartoon?"

"Oh god, yes please."

You reach for the remote to turn off the TV and snuggle a bit closer to Clarke. With every breath, Clarke's body becomes heavier against your chest until you're certain she's asleep. It excites you that she feels safe enough here with you to fall asleep in your arms; not unlike how safe Samuel is with her. 

"I've got you," you whisper into the evening, a resounding silence echoing back. 

You let yourself melt into the moment, let time stand still while the blood in your veins keep pumping. Your heart requests for more room to expand so that Clarke can move in there too, and you allow it. 

Not wanting to let go of her, you stay in your melted state until your eyelids become too heavy, until you realize you need to get up before you, too, fall asleep in this embrace.

How badly you want to give in. 

But Samuel. 

"Clarke..." You rub circles into her back until she stirs against you. "Let's get you to bed."

"Yeah," she yawns. 

It takes effort and you need to dig deep to find enough self control to get Clarke settled in your room and _not_ stay there with her. You can tell her body misses the comfort yours provide and your heart breaks not being able to give it to her. She doesn't voice it – you assume – because she understands that Samuel comes first. 

"Come find me if you need anything," is all you can give her right now. 

You kiss her goodnight and run your fingers through her hair until she falls back asleep. You stop by your pinboard on your way out, momentarily wondering if Clarke will notice the photo of Costia and your wedding ring, what she'd think of it, and if maybe you should take it down. You need Costia to still be here, not for you, but for Samuel. The realization hits you hard. You don't need Costia anymore. That's why you take it down – not the photo, but the ring – letting your fingers linger over it before lifting the chain off its pin. 

The gold band is heavy in your palm as you slide out of your room closing the door behind you. Taking a seat on the couch, you place the ring, still in its chain, on the coffee table. 

What are you going to do with it now… 

Throwing it away is out of the question; Costia is more important to you than that, she always will be. It's the symbol of your love and your family, and it doesn't feel right to just devalue it like that. 

You could keep it, hold onto it, not for you, but for Samuel. Maybe he'll grow up and meet a nice girl and he'll want to give her this ring, the one his mom picked out for you. Maybe he wants it as a reminder, just like her dog tags hanging from his night lamp. 

Maybe you could deliver it to him as a token, a gift, when you talk to him about you and Clarke. It's not a decision you need to make right now, so you place it in the box in the bathroom along with your other jewelry. 

Falling asleep isn't effortless. Your mind is an ocean of endless thoughts and you swim blindly against it, exhausted and out of breath until a girl with hair like the sun and eyes like the sky emerges from the depths below you. She hands you a life vest and takes your hand.

_"I do trust you, Clarke," you confess._

_"I know how hard that is for you," she says._

_She pulls you through the waves and out of the ocean until you feel solid ground against the soles of your bare feet. "Mama," Samuel calls out as he sprints towards you, and you catch him mid-air swinging him around until his laughter vibrates in your own chest._

_You put him back down and ruffle his hair. "Come on," he says grabbing your hand, then Clarke's, before he tugs the both of you with him._

__________

#### SAMUEL

Your eyes open and you can't see anything. It's really dark and you never liked that. Mama says your Superman night lamp scares the night monsters away so you turn it on. It doesn't always work. It doesn't work right now. You're scared because you don't know what to do. 

Mama always knows what to do. 

You jump out of your bed and walk really slow out of your room and into Mama's room.

"Mama?" You whisper so the night monsters don't hear you. 

She doesn't respond to you so you push a little on her shoulder because that always works. She turns around and it's not Mama, but it's okay because it's Clarke. 

"Sam?" Clarke says, "Are you okay?" 

"The night monsters are back," you whisper. 

"Oh, is that why we're whispering?" She whispers. 

"Uh, yes," you whisper back. 

"I see. And Mama usually scares them away?"

You nod.

"How?"

"She says they can't reach me under her sheets." This is very important. Mama says the night monsters can't see through her sheets just like Superman can't see through lead. 

"Oh... This one?" she says, pulling at the sheets. 

You nod. 

"Well, we can share it? Or we can go wake up Mama if she's the only one who can make it work?"

Clarke is named almost like Superman so you know she'll keep you safe. "We can share," you tell her. 

She lifts the sheets so you can climb under it and you crawl closer until she pulls you into a hug. It feels nice. 

"Is this okay?" She whispers. 

"Uh, yes," you say, you no longer have to whisper. 

"Are they gone?" She asks. 

You listen carefully for any night monster sounds but they're gone. "I think so," you tell her. 

"Awesome work, SuperBoy," she says and it makes you smile. 

Clarke is so cool.

__________

#### LEXA

Bellamy wakes you up sticking a finger in your ear, and in your sleepy state you miss your target completely when you throw a punch at his face. 

You open one _very threatening_ eye to stare him down, but he just grins at you like he couldn't care less. 

"So..." he says, "how was your night on the couch?" 

"Well, I slept... some." You sigh. You don't know exactly when you finally fell asleep, only that it was past very late. 

"You look terrible."

"Go away, Bellamy," you growl, pulling the blanket over your head. If you can't see him he's not there, right? 

Wrong. 

"Do yourself a favor and go check out your bedroom," he says. 

Your bedroom? 

"What? Is Clarke okay?" You panic a little. 

Bellamy laughs. 

He _laughs_.

"Yeah she's okay, just, go and see for yourself." He's got that annoying secretive big brother look that means he knows something you don't. Usually it also means he knows you want to know it too, but he won't tell you what it is. 

"Bell..." You whine because you're a pathetic tired mess who's not sure she's able to walk after a night on the couch. 

"No, you’ll want to see this for yourself. And tell Sam to come help me make pancakes for Clarke," he says before walking into the kitchen. 

Well, there's only one way to find out what this is about, so you pull yourself up, stretching until your spine cracks in more places than what's healthy. You go to Samuel's room first, but he's not there. Looking down the corridor you realize your bedroom door is open which is not how you left it last night. 

Huh... 

Tiptoeing your way to the door, you hold your breath as you sneak your head inside. What meets you is more than you can handle right now. Clarke is spooning Samuel, her arm protectively tugging him in close. The way he tugs his chin against the sheets tells you the night monsters were after him last night. 

Which means you weren't there for him.

Which means Clarke scared the monsters away and kept him safe. More importantly, it means he let her. 

It tugs at your heartstrings, and you tiptoe your way into the room to take a seat on the edge of the bed. You can't make up your mind who to wake up first, in fact, you kind of just want to stay here and watch them sleep. They don't need to open their eyes for you to be able to see dusty blues and bright blues. You've got them memorized in your mind, that place that holds special things to cheer you up on rainy days. Now you've got this memory stored away in there, too. 

You brush your knuckles softly against Samuel's cheek, he wrinkles his nose as he slowly opens his eyes. 

"Goodmorning, Sam," you whisper. "Did Clarke look out for you last night?"

"Uh, yes," he whispers and it turns into a yawn. 

"Do you want to help Uncle Bellamy make pancakes for her?" 

His eyes sparkle like christmas lights, his grin taking over his entire face. "Yes!" He has a hard time whispering when he's excited, and you see Clarke's eyelashes flutter which means you probably don't have much time before she wakes up. 

"Come on, then," you say, but he's already wrestling his way out of Clarke's embrace. "Tell Uncle Bellamy we'll join you when they're done, okay?" 

"Okay," he says as he runs out the door.

You turn your attention back to Clarke who's now looking up at you. "Goodmorning, Clarke. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," she breathes, her voice raw from sleep, her smile lazy on her lips. 

It feels like the only right thing to do as you lay down next to her, facing her. It's also pretty easy to reach for her hand, the one on top of the sheets, entwining your fingers. 

"Night monsters?" 

She chuckles before adding, "Apparently your sheets have magical powers."

Then you chuckle too. 

As you look at Clarke, hair like the sun and eyes like the sky, bits of your dream comes back to you. A sigh escapes your lips and Clarke bites her lip thoughtfully. 

"What are you thinking?" You want to know. 

She looks at you like she's searching for something, and you wish she'd tell you what it is so you can just give it to her. 

"Can I kiss you?" She whispers, almost like she's afraid of the answer, almost like she had to turn her heart inside out to be able to get those words out. 

"You don't ever have to ask me," you whisper back, and it feels like _your_ heart is suddenly inside out, too. 

"I have morning breath." She raises one eyebrow softly. 

"I do too." You raise one eyebrow of your own. 

She smiles – a soft tug of just one corner – before she leans in to brush her lips against yours. It's soft and over way too soon. You open your eyes to find that she's watching you with curiosity, biting her lip. You lift your hand to brush a few golden locks behind her ear. 

"Clarke?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to do this again." This. Mornings with Clarke. Sleepy moments. Lazy kisses. You've barely had a taste of _this_ and you're already addicted. 

She kisses you again and this time you capture her lower lip greedily between yours because you want it to last longer. She places a careful hand on your hip, gently squeezing you. It makes your heart race and you know you'll lose control if you don't slow down. Reluctantly, you pull back. 

"Clarke," you sigh.

"Yeah?" She chuckles, that breathy, soft chuckle of hers. 

"I want to share mornings like this with you again." You elaborate your previous statement, and it feels like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders just saying it out loud. 

"What, me sleeping in your bed while you sleep on the couch–" 

You know she has some smart-ass comment ready – you recognize the teasing tone in her voice – so you silence her with another kiss. This time your tongue has a mind of its own and Clarke doesn't seem to mind that one bit. 

_She_ pulls back this time. 

"Okay," she says, breathlessly, "but what about Sam?"

"I've been trying to take things slow, Clarke. But no matter what I do I'm drawn to wherever you are and I realized yesterday that I don't want to change that. I don't want to slow things down again. I just... I want this. Do you... I'll go slower if you're not comfortabl–"

"Lexa!" She interrupts your nervous rambles. 

"Yeah?" You look at her, holding your breath. 

"I don't want slow. I want this too. But I can be patient, Lexa, if that's what Sam needs."

"I don't deserve you." You weren't supposed to say that out loud.

" _I_ don't deserve _you_ ," she then says.

You miss physical closeness with Clarke already, it's not really something you can control anymore, which means your forehead decides _entirely on its own_ to lean against Clarke's, the rest of your body sighing gratefully in return. 

"I need to talk to Sam first." 

"I know."

"I want to take you out on a date." Your fingers decide they want to trace random patterns along Clarke's arm. 

"I only go on dates with people I date." Clarke smirks playfully. 

"I only date exclusively," you say matter-of-factly, stealing a quick kiss. 

"So, we're exclusive now?" She steals the next kiss. 

"Well, I suppose, I mean... If you _must_ label it." You shrug matter-of-factly, too. 

"Kiss me," she husks. 

"You're bossing me around already?" 

"Are you complaining?" She raises a knowing eyebrow. 

No. No, you're not complaining at all. Clarke can boss you around all she wants if she keeps looking at you like that. You give in to her request – your desires, too – and kiss her.

"Lexa?" She mumbles against your lips. 

"Mh?" 

"Does it mean you're my girlfriend?" 

"You sound like a high schooler." 

"Well, I feel like a high schooler around you. So... Are ya?" She grins. 

"Yes, Clarke," You smirk. "If you _must_ label it." 

"I must."

"I guess it's settled then," you say, kissing her once more. 

"What is?"

"We need to get up. I can't handle anymore kissing and touching and you sticking cute labels on our foreheads like some silly high schooler without needing a cold shower, Clarke." 

Clarke has the most vibrant laughter in the world and that's another thing you’re addicted to already. 

"Clarke?" You've given up catching up on that racing heart of yours. 

"Yeah?"

"Right now my son is making pancakes for my girlfriend." Saying it out loud makes you grin like an idiot. 

"So, what you're saying is, my dream date with Sam isn't over yet? He's cooking me breakfast after I spent the night? Huh..." She says thoughtfully. 

"I dare you to finish that thought, Clarke." You lift your upper body, supporting the weight on your elbow challenging her with your eyes. 

"Well, I mean... He's acting like a true gentleman," she says and you decide to let her off the hook until she smirks at you and says, "I obviously chose the wrong troublemaker, you could learn something from h–" 

You interrupt her the only proper way to interrupt a mischievous woman like Clarke. You tickle her. You straddle her, you find those soft spots under her ribs and you tickle her until her laughter becomes pseudo-screaming and Samuel comes running to find out what's going on. 

"SuperBoy, help me!" Clarke fakes a good damsel in distress. 

"Don't worry, Clarke, I'll save you!" Samuel grins, puffing his little skinny chest out. He jumps onto the bed and onto your back, his arms around your neck and then he says, "Let her go, Tickle Monster! Or else!!" 

"Or else _what_ SuperBoy," You can play this game too. 

"Or else... you don't get any pancakes!" SuperBoy says. 

"No pancakes!? I'll show you no pancakes!" You grab behind you to pull him onto the bed, but Clarke uses the momentum to find _your_ soft tickle spots and it takes you off guard enough so that she can pull you onto the bed. 

It happens so fast, and you aren't exactly sure how, but suddenly SuperBoy and SuperGirl have joined forces against the Tickle Monster and Clarke, _your girlfriend_ , is holding you down while Samuel, _your son_ , tickles you under your feet. 

This moment is so pure that you don't even try to fight it. You lie there taking all the love they want to give you, and for a moment you let yourself enjoy the uncontrollable shrieking laughter erupting from your lungs. 

You don't want it any other way. 

"Say cheese!" Bellamy yells from the doorway. 

What? You freeze. So does Clarke. You can't see what Samuel is doing but you imagine he's the only one actually smiling at Bellamy. 

_Click._

"Bellamy! No!" You yell. "Delete it!" You fight off Clarke easily and runs after Bellamy who's laughing so hard he almost cries. You catch him on the other side of the dinner table and he hands over his phone without a fight. 

"Too late," he says sheepishly. 

"What did you do!" You don't have to ask because you already know. Still, you search for the evidence hoping for once he isn't being an ass. 

No such luck. 

He sent Octavia the photo of Samuel and Clarke holding you down along with the words * _Lexa has fallen and can't get up'_

The double meaning of the word _fallen_ isn't lost on you and you know it won't be lost on Octavia either. Her reply ticks in while you're still staring at the phone praying that your eyes are deceiving you. 

**Tiny Blake:**  
_Told ya._

Told you what? What did Octavia tell Bellamy? Damn it!

You silently give Bellamy back his phone, pretending you don't care. "Let's eat pancakes," you say while plotting your revenge. 

You find Samuel and Clarke in the kitchen. You hear the end of one of Samuel's terrible jokes. Clarke snorts, and it turns into a collective explosion of laughter from the both of them. 

Your heart sighs; as in, you don't even know how to stop the heart eyes you know you're giving them right now. 

This is definitely the good kind of trouble. 

You want pancake mornings like these again, too. You want mornings with Clarke’s sleepy hair and kissable lips and her telling Samuel that "these are the best pancakes I've ever had!" You want mornings with Samuel’s innocent joy and his puffing of his chest and telling Clarke that "they're SuperPancakes."

You want Clarke to kiss Samuel on top of his black curls like this again, too, and if it happens to be morning goodbye kisses like these _every_ morning, you probably wouldn't be complaining. 

You want him to proudly wave goodbye to her like this before joining the other kids at daycare. You want him to have this and never lose it. You want a family for him; for yourself, too. He wouldn't know how to voice it yet, but you think he wants Clarke around more, too, so if you play your cards right maybe Clarke can be that family for the both of you. 

Then there's Clarke. You want to kiss Clarke goodbye like this again, too, and if they happen to be kisses like these, dancing lips and clashing smiles, you saying "I need to go", her saying "me too", you saying "I really need to go" and her chuckling against your lips as you steal one last one, well, then you _definitely_ won't be complaining. 

Lastly, there's you. You want to walk into Ark Gym every morning with this lightness in your heart and Clarke's touch still lingering on your skin. You wouldn't mind if Lincoln stopped winking at you like he knows all your dirty little secrets, which leads you to one more thing you want for yourself.

Privacy. 

For the first time since you moved in at Bellamy's, you want a little privacy. You want to respect Clarke the way she deserves, you want your stolen moments like the tickle fight this morning to not be eternally digitized and shared between your annoying adoptive siblings, and preferably, you want Octavia to shut her mouth and not share everything with Lincoln – your friend and your business partner. 

For the first time since Costia, you're ready to build your new home; or at least place the first brick.


	9. I (Don't) Kiss And Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words on the last chapter <3
> 
> As for this one, I feel like I need to tell you that this chapter is a bit of an oddball. All the important things happen in the conversations Clarke and Lexa have with a lot of different people. While this is 'kind of' plotless, the next few chapters will definitely make up for it.
> 
> Do let me know what you think :)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### OCTAVIA

Clarke enters the studio humming cheerfully and you _know_ it has something to do with that photo Bellamy sent you this morning. You know Lexa won't admit to anything, but maybe you can make Clarke talk. 

She throws herself onto the couch and you can't wait any longer so you throw yourself down next to her. "Someone's in a good mood."

"No no, this is my sad face," she grins. She looks happy. You've had the opportunity of experiencing Clarke performing on a stage and you thought that was her maximum of happiness. How wrong you were; this grin doubtlessly takes the prize. 

"Does it have anything to do with whatever you were doing this morning?" You can't help the teasing tone of your voice, it's too hard to hide that you're nosey.

"No comment," she grins. 

"Claa-aarke," you whine. "You gotta give me _something_. My mind is making up some pretty wild stories based on what little I know, and I'm quite sure you don't want me to accidentally spread those as rumors." You wiggle two fingers as you add quotation marks around _accidentally_ emphasizing that you're not really at all in control of whatever escapes your lips in the heat of moments. 

"Don't make up stories, O, there are none." Her face grows serious. 

"But... You obviously stayed the night, Clarke, that's not... nothing." Damn it, sometimes you hate your childish curiosity. 

"She slept on the couch. Just... please let it go." Clarke avoids your eyes, the pleading in her voice tells you this is serious, that there's something about this Clarke wants to keep private. It's the same look Lexa gets when she doesn't want to talk about Costia, so you understand you need to let this go. 

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she whispers. 

"I know I'm annoying at times. You're allowed to yell at me if it gets too much, so don't worry, I understand." You won't deny that your curiosity is eating you up inside but the pain in Clarke's eyes is breaking your heart to the point that all you really need right now is to make her feel better. 

But how... 

"I was having lunch with Lexa yesterday," she then says, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

You sit still, _very still_ , hoping she'll continue talking. You want her to feel safe to tell you whatever is on her mind. 

"... and I told her why I moved here." 

Shit, you're curious about that too, but no, you're zipping it. This is the first time Clarke is opening up to you and you'll be damned if you were to jinx it now. 

Her next inhale is so shaky you're afraid she might break. 

"The reason I left Arkadia. I'm not ready to tell you yet, but I told Lexa and it opened up some old wounds. She took care of me and insisted I wasn't alone last night."

She looks at you, her eyes welling up. She's not crying but you can tell she's fighting it.You nod. You know _I'm sorry_ is worth shit in these situations, you learned that lesson while taking care of Lexa. 

"You don't owe me that story, Clarke. Ever. But I'll gladly listen if you ever do want to share it, okay?"

She nods, sniffles once. 

"I'm glad you have Lexa. She'll keep you safe as long as you let her," you tell her. Lexa is the most loyal person you know, supportive, selfless. Clarke is doing the right thing trusting her. 

It makes Clarke smile and you wonder what memories she has of Lexa keeping her safe, they must be special. 

"I'm also glad she has you. I haven't seen her smile like this in a long time, it's... really good to see her finally moving on."

Clarke's smile grows wider. 

"Will you talk to me about you guys taking it slow?" Yeah, that's how long you managed to stay serious before the need to tease her became unbearable. 

She rolls her eyes at you, and it's a good thing because it means you succeeded making her feel better. 

"Well, we're terrible at it," she says. 

What does that even mean?

"Does that mean you guys are taking it... less slow?" You’re mentally crossing your fingers _sooo hard_. 

"Well, not on purpose, but yeah..." She grins.

"So, you're taking it... fast?" Come on, Clarke, give me something.

"A reasonable pace, maybe?" She smiles like she has a secret she doesn't want to share, not because she's afraid of people finding out but because it's too precious, something she wants to keep to herself.

"Really? A reasonable pace? That's all I get?" Your poor, curious heart is disappointed.

She shrugs. 

"What's a reasonable pace?" Raven barges in and throws herself onto the floor. 

"Clarke and Lexa went from taking things slow to taking things at a reasonable pace." You grin back at your partner in crime. 

"What does that even mean?" She wonders out loud. 

"It means they're getting married soon." Raven has this effect on you. All your teasing gets a little extra intense when she's around. 

"Ooh, a clexa wedding," Raven snickers and you laugh so hard you're almost crying. 

"What? No! Don't call us that. Don't ever call us that again!" Clarke commands, but she's not the boss of you – either of you. It makes you laugh even harder, so hard you actually fall off the couch.

Raven reaches over and punches you on the shoulder, "Chill O, it's not like they're having little clexa babies... yet," she smirks. 

"Ohmygod," Clarke groans. "You're both obnoxious." 

"Eh," Raven shrugs and you're still not done laughing. 

"But seriously, though, I'm happy for you. You both deserve it." Raven says and you stop laughing because you agree with her. 

"True," you say, looking at Clarke who's blushing a little. 

"So... I wrote some new stuff, wanna hear?" Raven asks from the floor. 

"Yes!" You and Clarke shriek in unison.

__________

#### LEXA

Lincoln and Gustus give you a hard time at work. It seems inevitable after they both witnessed you kissing Clarke yesterday. You also suspect that Octavia has shown Lincoln the photo from this morning, and it's moment like these that your adoptive siblings seem more of a curse than a gift. 

Every time Gustus passes you he either wolf-whistles or he makes kissing noises. You try to keep your cool, shrugging it off, ignoring it, but eventually you end up throwing things at him. Crumbled paper balls and such. It only spurs him on and you wish you had a hole in the wall you could crawl into and hide. 

If it's not Gustus, it's Lincoln. He wants to know if Clarke could keep up with your level of _endurance and stamina_ , so you give him a cocky smirk in return letting him decrypt the meaning of it himself. He then wants to know if Clarke's own level of said attributes is why she and Samuel had you manhandled this morning. You try your best to hide the red that creeps up your cheeks but Lincoln's laughter tells you, that you're not even close. 

Eventually, you hide in your office until today's chores are done. You think they're done teasing you when you leave to go home, but just as you pass by the front desk, Lincoln shouts, "See you tomorrow, Troublemaker."

You want to hate all of them, but in the end they're all some of your favorite people. That's the only reason you let them tease you. If you're lucky, they're back to normal tomorrow.

After work you pick up Samuel and you take him for ice cream at the park because you want to make this an extra good day for him. Also, you aren't proud to admit it, but you need a little more time to gather much needed courage for the talk you need to have with him. 

"Sam?" Okay, you can do this. 

"Yes, Mama?"

"I need to talk to you about something." You sit next to him on the bench and realize it's a terrible position for this kind of thing, so you move to kneel in front of him, placing a hand on his thigh. "Do you like Clarke?" You know he does, but you need to hear him say it to be sure. 

"Uh, yes." He doesn't even hesitate and the smile that comes with it calms your nerves a little, just enough to continue.

"That's good. I really like her too." Your hands are sweaty in that cold clammy way, and you feel stupid because your son is _five_ and you're terrified of having this talk with him. 

"If Clarke were to spend the night again, would that be okay with you?"

"Uh, yes. We can have pancakes again," he says, hope in his eyes. Okay, so far so good. 

"Would it be okay if I stayed with her in my bedroom?"

"Uh, yes," he says, and by the looks of it he's thinking a little bit harder on this one. Maybe he doesn't know what that implies, you think.

"Well, what if I kissed her. Would that be okay?"

"Like you kiss me?"

"Yes." Well, not really. "And like I used to kiss Mom."

He nods. Then blinks. 

"Mom will always be right here with you," you tell him, tapping a finger on his chest. "No one can take her away from you. No one. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Sam?" 

"Uh, yes." He nods matter-of-factly. 

"Good. Okay. I love Mom very much. I always will even though she's not here anymore. I love you very much too, Sam. Okay?"

He nods. Okay, he's still with you. 

"I love Clarke too."

You use the L word on purpose because you're not sure Samuel will understand this if you use _really, really care for_ , but as the word escapes your lips you realize the truth of it. The word resonates in your bones as if it already lived there, as if you’ve been loving Clarke for a long time. It's crazy because you've known her for less than two weeks. Not even Costia felt so _settled_ in your bones that early on. 

"Me too," he says. 

"You do?" 

"Uh, yes," he says, still awfully matter-of-fact about it. 

"Thank you, Sam." You pull him into a hug and kiss him on his curls. 

"Can I kiss her too?" He asks. 

"You want to kiss Clarke?" Please please please, don't let this be Bellamy teaching your kid that you kiss beautiful girls, too.

"Uh, yes. Like I kiss you and Mom." He blinks twice, perfectly calm otherwise. You know this means that he doesn't understand why _you're_ confused. 

Your kid is _THE_ most amazing human being in the entire world. You don't understand how he can just accept Clarke like this. You know he understands the idea of love, that love is something you feel for only really special people. You just put Clarke in the same category as Costia – his mom – and he was okay with it, in fact, _he_ put her in that category, too. 

This went better than you thought it would. You almost can't believe it. You kind of expect Samuel to throw a few tantrums at some point where you'll have to reassure him of the fact that Clarke is not Mom and that he's the most important part of your life. For now, though, you'll do everything in your power to make sure that this Samuel, who loves Clarke and wants to kiss her and have pancakes with her in the morning, feels just as loved as always.

__________

#### CLARKE

You unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. The second the door slams shut behind you, you realize that you've been dreading this moment all day. You kind of miss Lexa and the safety she provides but you also want to be able to stay in your own apartment by yourself without panicking. 

Which is why you don't call her. 

Instead, you lock the extra safety lock on your door and go through your apartment turning on all the lights. You grab a blanket and try to get comfortable on the couch, but flashes of Angry Finn keeps flooding your mind. 

Subconsciously, you look towards Samuel's penguin on the refrigerator door, and it must hold some magical power because it takes off the edge of your anxiety. 

You turn on your TV and find a cartoon channel because it reminds you of Samuel and his innocence; it brings light into your life. Cartoon music floods your mind as you lay down on the couch. The cushions are soft under you, the blanket warm atop your legs. You close your eyes, and rest your hands on your stomach feeling the rise and fall underneath your palms. 

Your breathing is shallow, too fast. You've learned that if you control your breathing in these kinds of situations, you can control the anxiety, too. Slowly, you pull air through your nose, letting it reach the ends and corners of your lungs, and you feel the reaction underneath your hands as they're being lifted by your stomach, steadily and controlled. 

You count to four. 

One. Two. Three. Four.

Then you push the air back out again through your mouth – slooowly – feeling the air escape your lungs, your hands falling along with it. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. 

The counting helps you control the balance between inhaling and exhaling, and you repeat the exercise until you feel the tension in your neck muscles dissolve and the crinkle between your eyebrows loosen up. 

You repeat until the memories of Angry Finn and a drunk You morphs into memories of Lexa's soft half smile and Samuel's innocent laughter. 

You repeat until you no longer feel the need to go pick up a bottle of vodka. 

Anxious Clarke doesn't care about right or wrong, she only wants to silence her thoughts, and Rational Clarke knows this. The hard part is to make Anxious Clarke listen to Rational Clarke. This breathing exercise is one way to help her do that. 

So that's what you focus on doing. 

You repeat the exercise again and again to keep Rational Clarke going. You repeat until your phone vibrates on the coffee table. *Troublemaker* flashes across the screen. You miss her voice, you feel a smile creeping up on you from the anticipation alone, so you allow Rational Clarke to take the call. 

"Hey." You haven't heard her speak yet, but your voice already reveals your excitement – it's subtle, but it's there. It's a whole lot more than two minutes ago.

_"Hey Clarke. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Just wanted to call and make sure you're okay?"_

There it is. Her voice. Yes. It brings a calm to your storm, a calm more persistent than the one you worked hard to create yourself with your breathing exercises. 

"I am. I just came home and... Promise you won't laugh at me?"

_"I don't know, Clarke, it kinda already sounds like I wouldn't be able to keep that promise."_

"Well, then I won't tell you." 

_"I promise to try?"_

That's good enough for you, and before you know it, you tell her all the things that's going through your mind. 

"I locked the safety lock on my door when I came home today. I haven't done that before, I never felt the need to." 

_"Clarke... I don't think that's funny at all."_

The concern in Lexa's voice is painful to listen to. 

"No, I'll get to tha–"

_"You don't feel safe inside your own apartment?"_

"Well, it's not that I'm scared of him showing up here. As long as I'm sober I can handle myself. It's just... I panic sometimes when I'm alone and I'm terrified of the day I won't be strong enough to fight it. The locks are more of a mental support than anything else." 

_"What happens if you're not strong enough?"_

If you say this out loud, there's no going back. For a second you fear that Lexa will take back everything she said this morning if she knew, but you need someone to listen to you; you need to get it out. 

"I get wasted. I mean, I don't consider myself an alcoholic, I don't need the alcohol... I need to not feel anything and alcohol seems to be the easiest way to make that happen."

You can hear her breathe into the phone and you let the silence linger for a while until you can't take it anymore. 

"Lexa? Talk to me."

_"I do the same. I mean... Your alcohol is my job. If things get rough I shut everyone out and I drown myself with work stuff. I push people away, even Sam..."_

Her sharp intake of breath rings in your ear, you know she's not done yet, so you wait for her to continue. 

_"Bell is the only one who's able to bring me back. That's why I'm still living at his place. Because he's my lifeline. And I know Sam is safe with him when I'm not able to take care of myself."_

"Lex... When was the last time?"

_"Her anniversary... November..."_

"That's good. That's a long time ago. If it happens again you’ve got me to help you too."

She stays silent, and you wonder what's on her mind, if she regrets telling you. You don't want her to regret any of it, so you give her something in return.

"About a month after I moved here I had a really shitty day. I didn't have anyone to lean on, and I eventually found myself standing in a liquor store with a bottle of vodka in my hand. Then Rae called me to tell me she'd finished a new song and to meet her at the studio ASAP. I stood there with my phone in one hand and the bottle of vodka in the other and had a really hard decision to make."

You pause to make sure she's still on the line. It's barely a whisper when she does announce her presence. 

_"What did you do?"_

"I was really excited to hear what Rae had made, and I realized I wanted that more than to escape my own misery. So I put the bottle back and went straight to the studio without stopping."

_"That's kinda badass, Clarke."_

Lexa's breathy chuckle feels like home. 

"Kinda, yeah." You chuckle along with her. 

_"Clarke?"_

"Yeah?"

_"When do you get to the part I'm not allowed to laugh at?"_

"Maybe I was hoping you'd forgotten about that?"

_"Not a chance. Spill."_

"Okay... Right... I came home, locked the door, panicked a little... and then I looked at Sam's penguin and I don't know... it kinda helped a little, and this is where I'm getting a little embarrassed. I found a cartoon channel on TV because it kinda reminds me of him."

Lexa's bright laughter is another thing that makes you feel better. 

_"Yeah, he has that effect on people. That's it? You're embarrassed to tell me you're watching cartoons because it reminds you of Sam?"_

"Well, yeah..."

_"Clarke, if anything Sam does makes you stronger, I insist you hold onto it. Especially when I can't be there for you."_

"I want to feel safe when I’m alone," you confess. 

_"I want that for you, too. You'll get there, Clarke, but in the meantime it's okay to lean on me and Sam."_

"I'll remember that."

_"Good. So... I was thinking, if you're not busy tomorrow, maybe we could do lunch again?"_

"Sounds good to me. It's a date."

_"Yeah?"_

"Of course. I kinda miss you."

_"I kinda miss you too."_

You're not ready to let her go, you not ready to face the silence. 

"Do you have time to tell me about your day?"

_"Uh, yeah, let's see... Lincoln and Gustus have been teasing me about you all day, and then Sam and I went for ice cream, which reminds me... We had a nice a talk today... About you."_

"Oh? How did that go?"

_"Really well. Too well, actually. I'm expecting him to do a one-eighty and throw the tantrum of the millennium at some point. He likes you and wants you to stay over again so you can have pancakes together. He doesn't mind if you were to stay in my room with me and he doesn't mind if I were to kiss you. In fact, he wants to kiss you too."_

"What? He said that?"

_"Yeah he did. He asked me if I wanted to kiss you like I kiss him, and because I didn't know how else to explain it to him, I told him I want to kiss you like I used to kiss his Mom...And please don't put anything into that, it's the only way I knew how to explain it. Then he said he wants to kiss you too, like he kisses me."_

"One, I get the metaphor, don't worry and two, he's so adorable." Your voice may be a pitch or two higher than usual. It may or may not be from the grin nearly splitting your face. 

_"You're adorable."_

"How did you become so sappy, Troublemaker?"

_"It's your fault. That's what the girlfriend label does to me."_

"Mh... Speaking of labels, and us, do we need to talk about what I can and can't do around Sam?"

_"Probably... but so far you've been perfect with him, so keep on being you, and… if you mess up I'll kick your ass?"_

"Haha, yeah, that's fair."

_"Just... I assume this is obvious, but please don't make him any promises you can't keep."_

"I would never, Lex! Not to him, not to you!"

_"I know."_

"And while we're at it I know that being with you is a package deal that includes Sam. If you have any doubts let me assure you that I don't want it any other way."

_"Clarke... Stop saying nice things like that over the phone. I want to kiss you so bad right now."_

"Tell me about it..."

_"Okay, how about this. We hang up, we go to bed early, we sleep and before we know it it's already tomorrow and I get to kiss you."_

"Sounds like you got it all figured out."

_"I do."_

"Alright, it's a plan. Thank you for checking up on me."

_"Anytime."_

"Text me when you're ready and I'll pick you up, okay?"

_"Okay. Goodnight, Clarke."_

"Goodnight, Lex."

The silence of your apartment is still there when you hang up, the giddy cartoon song, too. You're surprised to discover that the cartoon itself creeps you out more than the silence. You cover your eyes with your arm dragging much needed air into your lungs. 

Okay. Go to bed, sleep, lunch date. 

You can do this. 

You go to brush your teeth, the cartoon still in the background, and you catch yourself smiling in the bathroom mirror. It's unexpected but you welcome it, in fact, the lack of anxiety is something you welcome too. This isn't just about Samuel shining his innocent light on you, it's about Lexa's selfless act of calling to check up on you. 

You really don't deserve her, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to appreciate her. She can expect a proper thank you kiss tomorrow, that's for sure.

__________

#### LEXA

Talking to Clarke totally backfired. 

You hoped calling her would be like killing two birds with one stone. One, you needed to make sure she's okay and two, you needed to hear Clarke's voice. 

Ideally, you were going to wait until tomorrow to call her – maybe just shoot her a text tonight checking in on her – but then Samuel kept asking you things about Clarke and zoo animals, and it left an aching void inside you. Missing Clarke is an unbearable feeling. 

You feel pathetic admitting it. 

You feel even more pathetic admitting that calling her, listening to her raspy voice, made you miss her even more. 

Okay. Go to bed, sleep, lunch date. 

You can do it. 

As you're about to go to bed, Bellamy comes home. He joins you on the couch and you recognize his mischievous big brother smile. 

He's onto something. 

"Hey, Lexa." He grins. 

"Bell," you say casually. 

"So... I'm surprised to see your eyes aren't heartshaped yet." 

"What are you talking about," you sigh. You know, you just don't want to have this conversation with him. 

"I'm talking about you and Clarke being grossly cute across the dinner table last night."

You roll your eyes dismissively. 

"No? Okay, how about that family tickle party in your bed this morning?"

"It's none of your business, Bell." 

You're still mad at him for taking that photo – not because he sent it to Octavia, but because he intercepted with one of the very few golden moments you've had since Costia died. 

You may also feel a little pathetic admitting that you've been picturing how that moment would've turned out if Bellamy hadn't interrupted you. 

There’s not a single doubt in your mind that you’d have surrendered to Clarke and Samuel’s tickle attack. Clarke would’ve leaned in to kiss you, leaving a taste of her victory on your lips. “Sam and I will eat all the pancakes if you don’t hurry up,” she’d have said, causing Samuel’s bright smile to light up the entire room. Then Clarke would’ve let Samuel climb onto her back, and they’d have left you behind – you and your sheepish grin and your fluttering heart.

It's a good memory, no, fantasy. You didn't get to find out how it ended because Bellamy is an ass. 

You can feel his eyes upon you but you refuse to look at him. It's not that you're actually angry with him, it's just that you feel like you missed out on something very special. You're disappointed. 

"Okay, okay. I'll be nice." He clears his throat which tells you he means it. "How is Clarke?" 

"She's better. I just wish I could do more."

"I don't think you could've done more than you already did."

"Maybe."

"She told me about the violent ex-boyfriend. Not any details, just that she left him when she moved here."

"She told you?"

"Yeah. I told her she's safe here. Whenever she needs it."

"Thank you, Bellamy.".

"So, if I promise to behave, will you please tell me what's going on between the two of you?"

Bellamy's pleading puppy eyes are so annoying. They have the same effect on you as Samuel's. 

"I got Sam's approval to kiss on her... So I guess we're dating..."

He grins like he just won the lottery. 

"... exclusively," you add in a mumble and laughter breaks from Bellamy lips. 

"Exclusively? As in girlfriends?"

"What is it with the need to label everything, you sound just like Clarke." You feint annoyance, but the blush creeping up your cheeks is impossible to hide. 

"Oh, this is priceless." 

You kind of want to punch the smirk off his face. You never like any sort of attention given towards your privacy. Bellamy knows, he just doesn't care. 

"But seriously. Congratulations on the title, I guess I'll need to give her the big brother talk the next time I see her."

"Bell, don't do that. Leave her alone." You groan knowing full well that you don't have a say in this.

"Only because I really like her, I'll consider your request," he then says. "I've got an early morning, so I'll head to bed. Goodnight Lex."

"Goodnight Bell."

You let the excitement of calling Clarke your girlfriend bubble through your veins for another couple of minutes before calling it a night too. The faster you fall asleep, the faster you get to see Clarke. If that's not motivation, you don't know what is.


	10. Boys' Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not Sunday, but I felt like shaking it up a bit.... so, here's the new chapter a couple of days early.
> 
> Thank you for liking my 'oddball chapter'. THIS one is one of my favorites. It's one of the long ones, a lot of things happen.  
> I hope you like it (and please, take notice of the Greek mythology reference because it's one of my prouder moments as a writer - I feel confident enough to admit that). Oh, and if anyone wants to get to know Raven a bit more, here's your chance.
> 
> I haven't decided when to upload next chapter (I'm considering doing a once every 4 days thing from now on...) It'll be up next Thursday at the latest. 
> 
> You guys are literally the best! <3  
> Let me know what you think of Boys' Breakfast, alright?
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

The wallpaper in your room is momentarily painted with the distinctive colors of an early sunrise. You've been observing them for a while, not being able to fall back asleep. The current scheme of colors reminds you of Clarke's golden hair, and you've given up trying to smoothen out the persistent smile on your lips. 

It feels good. 

It feels good to wake up in the early morning hours smiling about the things you're looking forward to. 

Your lunch date with Clarke, that is. 

Your alarm clock isn't set for another hour, you can't go back to sleep because every time you bury your face into the pillows your nervous system is sent into overdrive – your sheets still smell of Clarke. It's something you can't block out, not by shutting your eyes, not by holding your breath. Your mind is annoyingly good at conjuring up memories of her, of her bright blue eyes and adorable dimples, the husk of her voice when she calls you a troublemaker, the way her lips lingering on yours inactivates your ability to breathe.

You give up, get up, take a shower. 

You wake up Samuel and the first thing he says is, "Can we get Clarke a Superman T-shirt too?" You tell him it's an excellent idea and he grins sleepily as he climbs out of bed. 

He's the cooperative Samuel today. He doesn't spill his breakfast, and he doesn't demand to change his T-shirt just as you're about to walk out the door. He's easy and happy and it rubs off on you. 

Today is an excellent day. 

Lincoln and Gustus aren't done teasing you about Clarke. They upped it a notch, too. Lincoln has adopted Gustus' kissing noises, and Gustus has adopted Lincoln's nickname for you which means you've been referred to as Troublemaker all day. 

They can tease you all they want; today is an excellent day and so it peels right off of you. 

When Clarke walks into the gym she's wearing light blue skinny jeans and a washed out black band T-shirt maybe a size too big for her. Her hair is loose, tucked back behind one ear, and her smile grows wide making her dimples more prominent. You really like this Casual Clarke, and for a moment you wonder how she'd look like with that Superman T-shirt Samuel wants to give her. 

"Troublemaker! Your endurance and stamina client is here," Lincoln calls from behind the front desk.

You ignore him. 

She winks at you. 

You give her your smirky half smile because the only other option is a mouth agape full-on stare, and Lincoln and Gustus have plenty of ammunition to pester you with already. 

She walks up to you, puts a hand on your waist as she leans up to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"They're giving you a hard time?" She asks, just loud enough so only you can hear her. 

"A little, but it's worth it," you tell her and it earns you another dimple smile. "Come on, let's get out of here," you say, sliding your hand into hers as you leave the gym. 

Once outside, she stops you and pulls you into a hug, her arms around your waist, yours finding their home around her shoulders. She sighs into the crook of your neck and you pull her a little bit closer. 

"I've missed you," she whispers. 

"I've missed you too," you confess. 

She breaks the hug only to capture your lips instead, gently but demanding. Her hands slide into your back pockets and one of yours find the back of her neck. She gives you a little squeeze causing your hips to push against her, and if you weren't standing in the middle of the sidewalk for everyone to witness, you would've pushed her up against the wall. 

That's the kind of effect she has on you. 

"Clarke..." You break the kiss, your voice the weakest of accusations. 

"Sorry," she says, still looking at your lips. 

"Don't be." 

She slides out of your arms, a sigh escaping her lips, and she tugs you across the street insisting you take her to the same diner as the last time. She even places the same order too, a ham and cheese omelette and a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. 

This lunch date is over way too soon for your liking. Conversations with Clarke always flow easily, and you realize you need to figure out how to spend more than just an hour or two with her soon. Very soon. Because you've got a bad case of Clarke cravings that needs to be fulfilled or else you might lose it.

You're still concerned about her well-being after she told you about Finn, but she seems better today. She tells you that you calling to check up on her made all the difference last night, so you make a mental note to call her on days you're not able to spend time with her. 

After lunch she walks you back to your gym. She tells you she'll spend the rest of the day with Raven in the studio, and while you're happy she has someone to look out for her, you also kind of hate it isn't you. 

"Can I call you later?" You ask her, running you knuckles up her arm.

"Please do," she smiles. 

"You won't be busy in the studio?" You really don't want to intrude on her band time. 

"Nah, Raven and I get things done before dinner. After that we're just... hanging out... So don't worry."

"Okay," you say, cupping her cheek. You brush a thumb across her cheekbone, admiring how her dimple forms against your palm. You kiss her holding onto her lips longer than you probably should. 

You already miss her. 

"I don't wanna go back to work," you whine against her lips, your hand entangled in her hair. 

She chuckles and presses the softest of kisses against your pouty lower lip. "Got a long day?" 

"Thursdays are Kids Gym for the big kids. I love it, I just... I don't want to say goodbye," you admit. 

"Me neither," she says. "Do you do the war paint thing with the big kids too?" 

You nod, grinning at her. 

"Do me a favor?" She smirks. 

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Send me a selfie, _Commander_ ," she winks. 

You raise an eyebrow, "So let me get this straight. You have a thing for suspenders, ties, sweaty post-workout selfies... and the Commander?" 

"That just about sums it up, yeah," she grins. 

"I'll see what I can do." You pull her in for another kiss, murmuring goodbye against her lips before sliding back into the gym, to another round of Gustus and Lincoln's teasing.

__________

#### CLARKE

You and Raven are taking a break from vocal recordings. Raven is splayed across the floor _looking at things from a different perspective_ while you play around with Lincoln's acoustic guitar. You're a decent guitar player, not awesome, just decent. You know enough to accompany yourself while singing, and that's all you really need. 

Being on stage with _The Fever_ demands that you're a performer. It's about energy most of all, not just vocally, but your body as a whole. It means you sometimes crave these acoustic sessions. Just you, a guitar or a piano, your voice and your wrung-out heart. You're not a songwriter like Lincoln. You're terrible with words, but it doesn't matter because this is about singing out your emotions and there are plenty of great songs out there able to help you do that.

"I like soft mellow Clarke," Raven speaks from the floor. "Soft mellow Clarke's voice is so soothing." She sighs happily, and it makes you chuckle. 

You put the guitar down to join Raven on the floor, on your back, your arms under your head and ankles crossed. 

"You seem much better today," she says. 

"Yeah." you agree. 

"That's good. I'm glad you have Lexa." 

"Me too."

"I'm from Arkadia too." 

"You are?" You turn your head to look at her. Why didn't you know this?

"Yeah. I was running too."

You nod. You understand. 

"O is my Lexa." She then says finally looking back at you. "A platonic Lexa," she smiles.

__________

#### RAVEN

You are in love with Clarke's singing voice. Not just because it fits well with the sound of the band, but because she's so damn talented. There's emotion there that always strikes a nerve with you. You know music is self therapy for her, and it's not lost on you that her repertoire this afternoon is a lot more melancholic than usual. You recognize the pain, and for some reason it soothes you, it eases your own pain. 

You never told anyone you're from Arkadia, not even Octavia. Saying it out loud means they'll know about the past you've been running from. You're afraid that if they knew, it'd bring back memories you've tried really hard to suppress. Octavia knows you had your heart broken, that you want to distance yourself from the past. She also knows you tend to focus on the pain more than what's healthy. She never asks for details, something you’re grateful for.

"How long ago?" Clarke pulls you out of your thoughts. 

"About two and a half years." 

"That's a long time," she says. She looks to the ceiling, and you get the feeling that she's scared of feeling like this for another two years. 

"It gets better," you assure her. "Not a complete fix-up, but better."

"Oh, hey, am I interrupting?" Octavia stands in the doorway. 

"No, I was just telling Clarke about why I moved here."

"Oh. Want me to leave?"

"No no, come in. You know this already."

Octavia slides hesitantly into the room and takes a seat on the floor next to Clarke. Clarke straightens up into a seating position, too. 

"I was engaged," you say, looking at Clarke. "Until I wasn't. He came home one day and sat me down and told me he'd met someone else. I was so in love with him that I couldn't bare live in the same city with him anymore." You've come to realize that it helps not saying his name. That way he's an anonymous factor in your life, and it makes it surprisingly easier to leave him back in Arkadia. 

Clarke nods as if she recognizes your story. For the first time since you met her you wonder if her story is similar to yours. 

"Thinking about Arkadia and about him still hurts sometimes. Ask O, I was a terrible mess when we met. But now? I don't want to be anywhere else than right here. This _is_ my new home." You share a look with Octavia who smiles at you. 

"Thank you for telling me," Clarke says timidly. 

"No problem. I just want to let you know that it's okay to be a mess and that we got your back if you ever need it," you say.

"What she said," Octavia agrees. 

You study Clarke for a while, your analytical mind in overdrive. She's thinking, clearly fighting some battle inside her mind. You wish you could do more for her, but you also know that these things take time. 

Clarke takes a deep shaky breath and you look at Octavia who's clearly holding a breath of her own; you know she, too, is thinking that Clarke might actually open up soon. 

"I'm running from my ex," she says, her fingers busy fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt. "After my dad died I got really depressed and uh... He couldn't handle it, he got really angry sometimes."

She closes her eyes for a second, and you look at Octavia who looks as afraid as you are to find out where this is going. 

"He brought back PTSD from war and he struggled with it a lot... and it was easier to take it out on me."

There's a piercing silence in the room as you realize what she's implying, the tears welling up in her eyes give you a really bad feeling. 

"Clarke..." Octavia is the first one of you to break the silence. "Did he... Did he hurt you?"

Clarke confirms with the smallest, most hesitant of nods you’ve ever witnessed; still fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. 

"I loved him so much that I gave him a chance to prove to me he wouldn't do it again. But he did, so I left. Him and Arkadia."

You watch Octavia pull Clarke into a hug. You can't see it but you can hear Clarke sobbing. You get up to hug her from the other side because you know she needs a lot of love right now. 

"Okay. Girls' night in today. I'm kicking Linc out and we'll order takeout, watch sappy movies and eat ice cream." Octavia says. 

"Okay," Clarke agrees. 

Polis saved you. Polis will safe Clarke too, you're sure of it. Not only does she have Octavia and you; she has Lexa, too.

__________

#### CLARKE

Octavia and Raven are helping you getting your mind off of things. They're doing a great job, and you feel good about telling them your secret. It wasn't a part of the plan, but when Raven told you about her past, you realized the two of you are more alike than first anticipated. Knowing how well Raven is doing today gives you hope that someday you'll get there, too. 

"So..." Octavia says and you know that tone. It means she's about to tease you about Lexa. "How are things with Lexa."

"Good," you say. 

"Rae, she's doing it again.”

"Doing what, O?" Raven asks innocently, but you know she's totally in on whatever plans Octavia has.

"Refusing to give us juicy details on clexa."

Not this again... You're about to tell them to stop calling you that when your phone buzzes. You ignore the two idiots while checking your phone. 

**Troublemaker:**  
_[photo attached]_  
_As requested, a rare photo of The Commander._

**You:**  
_Cute <3_

**Troublemaker:**  
_The Commander is not cute, Clarke. She's a strong and well respected leader._

**You:**  
_She's trouble ;)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_If that trouble involves you she'll gladly cause it._

**You:**  
_Well, I won't be complaining ;)_

**Troublemaker:**  
_I'm sure you won't ;) How are things at the studio?_

**You:**  
_They're good. I told Rae and O about Finn. It's a good thing. I'm okay. They're spoiling me with ice cream and movies._

**Troublemaker:**  
_Good! I wish I could be there with you but I'm glad you have them when I can't be there._

**You:**  
_Me too. All of it. Can I call you in an hour? Will you still be up then?_

**Troublemaker:**  
_I will._

You put your phone back down. When you look up both Raven and Octavia are smirking at you. 

"So how _is_ Lexa?" Octavia wears that innocent smile that's not innocent at all. 

"Oh, come on, leave me alone," you groan hiding your face in your hands. You can hear the slap of Octavia and Raven's high five, their laughter tells you they're having too much fun teasing you. You know they mean well, and if you must be honest, you'd rather have them teasing you than not have them in your life at all. 

 

//

 

You call Lexa on your way home. It feels good to hear her voice, it feels good to hear her say she misses you. You tell her you miss her too. She tells you Samuel made her watch the penguin movie again and you kind of miss him, too. Before you know it, you've locked yourself inside your apartment. You can hear she's holding back her yawning, so you tell her goodnight, and she promises she'll call you tomorrow.

__________

#### LEXA

"You miss her," Bellamy says as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. Samuel is next to you watching his cartoons while you scroll through the texts between you and Clarke. You forgot she had band practice today, so you haven't been able to call her yet. 

"That obvious?" You sigh. 

"Is she busy tonight?"

"Band practice."

"Hey SuperBoy?" Bellamy calls for his attention. 

"Yes, Uncle Bellamy?"

"I want a boys only breakfast tomorrow. With SuperPancakes and strawberry yoghurt. How does that sound?" 

"Boys only?" Samuel looks confused.

"Yes. Just you and me. Boring Mama is not allowed in on boys breakfast." Bellamy grins. 

"Bell..." You realize what he's doing. 

"Shut up, Lexa, let me do this for you," he mutters under his breath so Samuel won't hear him. 

"Can I wear my Superman T-shirt?" Samuel wants to know. 

"Mama? Can he?" Bellamy asks, already sporting that obnoxious victory smile, all part of the Blake Arrogance package. 

"Uh, sure..." You're not entirely sure what you're agreeing to. 

"Okay." He grins.

"Good that's settled then. Boys only breakfast tomorrow morning." Bellamy offers Samuel his pinky for a pinky swear and Samuel accepts. 

As Samuel returns to his cartoons, Bellamy leans in to whisper, "Go be with her tonight." When you don't respond he says, "Lexa, don't worry. I'm here when he wakes up and if boys’ breakfast doesn't do it, I'll call Octavia and tell her to pick him up for ice cream."

"I can't just–" 

"Yes you can. You're not allowed to join breakfast anyways, might as well take advantage of that," he winks. 

"Okay. Thank you Bell."

"Tell Clarke I said hi."

 

//

 

**You:**  
_What time are you back from band practice?_

**SuperGirl:**  
_10:30pm I think. Why?_

**You:**  
_Do you want me to come over?_

**SuperGirl:**  
_You mean... To spend the night? What about Sam?_

**You:**  
_Yes. Unless it makes you uncomfortable? I only expect cuddles (just to be clear). Bell and Sam are having boys only breakfast tomorrow and I'm not allowed to be there…_

**SuperGirl:**  
_Cuddles sound nice :) Okay, 10:30 my place and tell Bellamy thank you._

 

//

 

It's exactly 10:30pm, not a second too early, not a second too late, when you press the buzzer to Clarke's apartment. 

_"Hello?"_ Clarke's voice is like honey, even on the intercom. 

You clear your throat to get rid of the mushy grin on your face. "It's the commander." Even through the intercom you hear Clarke chuckle and that mushy grin of yours is back in its place. Just like that. 

She buzzes you in and you take the stairs two steps at a time until you reach her platform. You feel like Icarus drawn towards the sun, but where his wings melted when he got too close, yours expand even further and you soar through the air and right into Clarke's awaiting arms. You melt against her, and if that's your punishment for getting too close to the sun, well, you don't mind one bit. 

The door slams shut behind you, Clarke's lips find yours and you make a mental note to thank Bellamy later for giving you this moment. You drop your bag on the floor somewhere needing both hands to pull her close. 

Melting. 

The best kind. 

Skin, lips, tongues, hearts. 

Your bones aflame. 

She breaks the kiss, chuckling against your lips as they chase after hers. 

"Hey," she breathes. 

"Hi." You lean your forehead against hers.

"You're here."

"I am."

You're here, just you and Clarke. No one else around, not even strangers on the sidewalk. It feels like you're supposed to be here, like you were supposed to have gone here a long time ago. You feel like being apart is the most wasteful of ways to spend your time. 

"How was band practice?"

"Good. We're working on some new material for the music festival."

"I'm looking forward to hear it."

You brush loose strands of golden hair behind her ear, and your heart flutters by the way she smiles as she leans into the palm of your hand. 

"Come on," she hooks her fingers onto yours and pulls you towards the couch. "Tell me about your day," she says as you take a seat next to her. 

"Lincoln and Gustus are still teasing me about you." 

She gestures for you to lie down, to place your head in her lap. You obey. 

"They're giving you a hard time?" 

"A little. It'll pass... eventually." 

"How's Sam?"

"He's good. He asks about you. A lot. I think we need to arrange another sleepover soon," you tell her. It's true. Samuel keeps talking about pancake mornings with Clarke and you want to give it to him. You need it yourself, too. So, so bad. 

She runs her fingers through your hair, her fingertips gently massaging your scalp and you feel a little like this is the best feeling in the world. You look at her and she watches you with the softest blue eyes you've ever seen. You study her as she runs a finger along your hairline, your eyebrow, you jaw. Your eyes follow her fingers and you get the feeling she's mapping you out, like she wants to remember _this moment right here_ at a later time, and your heart aches by the realization that she probably needs to remember this when you're not here.

"Penny for your thoughts." You whisper, you don't want to startle her. 

"You're here," she smiles.

"I am." Her smile is infectious. 

"So... What you wanna do?" she asks. 

"I told you, I expect cuddles," you say matter-of-factly causing Clarke to laugh lightly. 

"How about we get ready for bed and then we cuddle?" She offers. 

"Sounds tremendous," you grin and you're pretty sure Clarke's laughter is one of your favorite things. 

For every second you spend getting ready for bed you get a little more worked up. You're nervous. You're going to sleep in the same bed as Clarke, the kind, gorgeous, sexy woman who makes your heart race. You did not think this through. It certainly doesn't help that she's wearing cute little women boxers underneath that T-shirt. 

You feel her hand run down your back before it finds its way to your hand. Before you know it, she tugs you by your fingers towards her bed. She says nothing as she pulls you onto the bed and under the covers. The sound of your own beating heart is piercing your ears when she smiles at you. 

You lay down next to her stretching your arm out, she snuggles into you immediately. Her arm slides across your waist, one leg slides between yours, and your body is a battlefield where contentment fights arousal and no one ever wins. 

No, you did not think this through at all. 

"Is this okay?" Her breath is hot against your collarbone. 

"Tremendous." Your voice is a pitch higher than usual and you hope she didn't hear it. 

"Hey..." She cups your cheek forcing you to meet her eyes in the dark. "Talk to me." Okay, maybe she did hear it. 

"You make me nervous." You confess. "I was so excited to see you that I didn't consider what staying over might mean."

"I can take the couch," she says. 

"What? No... Are you kidding? I've dreamt of this moment for a very long time," you give her the best smirk you got right now. 

"We met two weeks ago," she says, pressing her lips gently against your neck. 

"Only two weeks? It feels longer." You're not lying, it does actually feel longer. You can't define the actual length of time... it just feels... _longer_. 

"True," she says, moving her lips up your neck to your earlobe, softly brushing against your sensitive skin. "So... Kissing you like this is okay?"

_Well, damn._

"Yes."

"Tell me to stop."

You can't. 

She slides a thumb under the hem of your tank top, brushing lightly against your hipbone, and her kisses reach your lips. She's gentle. Soft. You wonder if it's obvious how dry your throat suddenly is – if maybe your lips taste of the desert. Your hand find the back of her neck, her tongue licks your lips apart and pulls the air out of your lungs. You forget if there ever was a reason for you to tell her to stop. It seems highly unlikely right now because Clarke's hand slides down your thigh to pull your leg around her waist.

An entangled mess.

A beautiful mess. 

She breaks the kiss and you chase her lips because you don't want her to stop. 

"Lexa," she whispers, "tell me to stop." The look in her eyes tells you she's – inevitably – as lost in this moment as you. 

"Don't stop," you whisper back. 

"Lexa..." She sighs, a plea. 

"Clarke..." You imitate her. 

"Will you regret this?" The insecurity in her voice nearly breaks your heart and you realize what she's really asking you is not to break hers. 

"Never," you promise. 

You study her, the battle in her eyes, her shaky breath, the way her hand squeezes the back of your thigh as if she'd fall if she didn't, the way her eyes seek the truth of your words as if it's written in your eyes, on your forehead, on your lips. 

You let her take the next step. 

You let her hand slide up under your tank top grabbing on to your back, grabbing on for dear life when she captures your lips again. 

You let her set the pace. 

You let her roll you onto your back, settling between your legs. She grinds into you pulling your entire existence upwards into an arch. She pulls at your heartstrings and you anchor her to your heart letting it soak up all that is Clarke. 

There's no doubt in your mind that Clarke is only capable of giving everything she has – nothing less – and you're not entirely sure you deserve all of it, but your heart has already made up its mind. Giving in tonight is your promise to never take her for granted, so you let her rip your heart open filling it with the overwhelming realization that you never really, truly lived until now. 

You don't know what time it is.

Clarke's naked body is draped over yours, and based on how fast she fell asleep she's just as exhausted as you. Your eyelids are heavy but you keep fighting them open; you don't know when you'll have Clarke like this again. You spend your last bit of strength staying awake listening to her peacefully breathing in and out. 

You press your lips softly against the top of her head thinking nothing will ever be strong enough to wipe off the smile on your lips. 

That's the last thing you remember.

__________

#### CLARKE

You blink your eyes open but the morning sun is blinding you, forcing them shut again. You feel Lexa's front against your back, and her breath against your shoulder lets you know she's still asleep. 

Memories of last night wash over you. You've never felt a connection so intense before, and it terrifies you because what if it's only you. What if Lexa is still taking things slow while your heart demands going faster than the speed of light. What if Lexa _likes_ you, but not enough to ever match the _love_ that jumps off the walls of your own heart?

It's been two weeks and you're already irrevocably in love with her. What if she doesn't feel the same? What if she never will?

You told her to stop. You begged her not to break your heart. "Never," she said, and it tore down your walls. You searched for any sign of her lying, but all you found was what you already knew: Lexa is the most loyal, most caring individual you've ever met. She only speaks the truth and she makes you feel safe.

If this isn't real then nothing is. 

So you gave in. 

You let her pull you under, letting the waves crash against your body, trusting her with your life. 

You fell in the most brutal of ways, crashing helplessly into her arms, her gentle touch painfully shooting life into your veins. 

You must be a masochist for wanting to do it all over again. 

Her arm tightens around your waist, pulling you out of your thoughts, pulling a smile onto your lips. You twist in her arms to face her and you watch her eyelashes flutter in the morning light. 

"Hey," she says, her eyes still only half open.

"Hi." You place a soft kiss against the tip of her nose and admire how it settles as a lazy smile on her lips. 

"That was... _THE_ best cuddles I've ever had," she sighs, her voice still raspy from sleep. You watch as her smile morphs into that smirk of hers. 

"I told you, you were trouble." You poke her in the stomach and she laughs.

"You started it," she says, leaning in for a kiss.

"Well, yeah, I did." You blush, meeting her halfway. She grins against your lips and you kind of wish you could stay like this all day. "How long have I got you for?" 

"Not long enough... I should probably check in with Bell," she sighs as she slides out of your reach, out of your bed. 

You watch her disappear out of your bedroom, admiring the contours of her gorgeous, naked body. She returns, her phone in one hand and another smirk on her lips. 

"Like what you see?" She winks at you. 

"I do. I think we should introduce a house rule. The Commander must not wear clothes inside."

She laughs again as she straddles you. She reaches for your hands and places them on her abs. "The commander is not a piece of meat, Clarke."

"My hands beg to differ." They really do. Your hands as well as your eyes are very appreciative of Lexa's toned abs washed in morning lights glow. You don't have to be an artist to recognize a masterpiece. 

She lifts one of your hands up to her mouth and runs her tongue agonizingly slow along your index finger, and you have to bite your lip as not to moan.

"We've got about two hours before we're meeting everyone for ice cream at the park," she says. "Say, you show me what those hands of yours can do, then we take a shower and–" 

"Stop talking," you interrupt her, reaching up to pull her down for a kiss.

Two hours is not to be wasted.

__________

#### BELLAMY

You're on your way to meet Octavia and Lincoln at the park, Samuel is sitting on your shoulders proudly sporting his superman T-shirt. The two of you have had a great morning. Boys’ Breakfast was a hit up until the point where he finished his last pancake and asked where Mama was. You told him she had a girls’ breakfast with Clarke and that she'll be back soon. He took it surprisingly well so you told him you were proud of him before calling Octavia to set up an ice cream date. 

"Uncle Bellamy?" 

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Is Mama getting ice cream too?"

"Yeah, she is. She and Clarke will meet us at the park." 

"Okay."

Octavia and Lincoln are already there when you arrive and Samuel runs to meet his Auntie O in a hug while you take a seat by the picnic table. 

"What's up?" Lincoln asks. 

"Not much," you say, squinting against the sun. It's a fine day to be out and about.

"Where's Lexa?" Octavia asks. 

"She'll be here." You throw Octavia one of those big brother grins she hates. 

"Spill, Bell," she demands. 

"You'll see, O."

Out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of them, Lexa and Clarke walking towards you. Lexa has her arm draped over Clarke's shoulder and Clarke's arm is around Lexa's waist. Lexa kisses Clarke's temple before letting go of her. 

They look happy.

It makes _you_ happy to know that looking out for Samuel for half a day brings Lexa so much joy. It's the least you can do. She deserves a break. 

"Ohmygod," Octavia whispers. 

You laugh at the surprised expression on her face. She figured it out; faster than you thought she would. 

"Mama!"

Samuel runs towards them and Lexa kneels to hug him, kissing him on the cheek. 

"Hey Sam. How was boys’ breakfast?" She asks. 

"We made SuperPancakes," he grins.

Then Samuel goes to hug Clarke too, and this time Samuel kisses Clarke on the cheek. Clarke and Lexa shares a knowing look and you make a mental note to ask Lexa what that was about at some point. 

"Clarke, do you want ice cream too?" Samuel asks. 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, ruffling his hair. 

Lexa takes a seat next to you and leans in to whisper, "Thank you Bell. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it," you tell her. Because you'll gladly do it again. 

"I assume this means you're official," Octavia wants to know. 

"If you _must_ put a label on it," Lexa sighs, sharing another knowing look with Clarke. 

"Endurance and stamina class is over?" Lincoln grins. 

"Exam well passed," Lexa shoots back. 

"Oh, how did that go?" Lincoln winks. 

"A+ and a gold star," Lexa throws her best Blake smirk at Lincoln which makes you and Octavia explode with laughter. 

Clarke blushes while she holds her hands over Samuel's ears. It makes you and Octavia laugh even harder. Lincoln looks a little uncomfortable, maybe regretting he started this one, and Lexa walks over to kiss Clarke's cheek. 

"Okay Sam, ready for ice cream?" Lexa says. 

"Uh YES!" He squeals excitedly. 

Watching Samuel take Lexa's hand and then Clarke's hand, pulling them both towards the ice cream man, makes you realize that Clarke is already a part of this family. You share a knowing smile with Octavia before the three of you join them.


	11. Dr. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear all of you. I think last chapter was a big hit to many of you. Some of you even have a few theories on Raven's past and whatnot. I like it. I'm humbled by the investment you put into this story. Thank you <3
> 
> I don't know how to summarize this chapter, but there's a trip to the zoo involved.
> 
> I hope everyone is having a splendid day. 
> 
> Enjoy!   
> ~anonbeme

#### CLARKE

Monday mornings might actually be your new favorite thing. Starting your new job at the zoo certainly is. Your first day is easy, you meet your colleagues, and they let you tag along on their rounds introducing you to their tasks and all the animals. Polis Zoo is well-known for their research and breeding programs, and part of your job will be to work along those teams. You'll also be assigned a focus area in which you'll be responsible for making sure that the animals thrive and are healthy: sea life animals, your primary passion. There's a part of you that's really looking forward to show Samuel around, his love for penguins considered. 

Your first week on the job is new and exciting, leaving you utterly exhausted once you're home. You make a big deal out of going to Kids Gym to watch Samuel on Tuesday and high-fiving him when he scores a goal. You make an even bigger deal out of kissing Lexa senseless once you have her alone in her bedroom. Tuesdays will from now on be your _Sleepover at Sam's_ tradition and you can tell it means a lot to Lexa. You make sure she knows you're not only doing it for her and Samuel, but for yourself, too. 

If this Wednesday morning is anything to go by, Samuel will make it a tradition to wake you up by climbing onto the bed to snuggle up in between you and Lexa. It's a gesture that melts your heart and leaves you feeling complete in a way that overshadows how domestic this really is. It should scare the hell out of you, but it doesn't, not even a little bit. You don't have time to stay for SuperPancakes this morning but you promise Samuel that you'll show him around the zoo on Saturday if he's up for it – pinky swear and all. You ruffle Samuel's hair and kiss Lexa goodbye before going to work. 

It's a busy week, which means you don't see Lexa again until Saturday. It leaves you in a state of missing her terribly. While your evening phone calls always soothe the ache in your heart, it doesn't entirely remove it; the yearning to have her in your arms is too strong. 

Something has shifted between the two of you since you had sex. It's no longer just about taking every little opportunity you get to have a moment with her. It's about having finally crossed that threshold where the both of you admits you want this. It's about going through each day feeling like an important part of you is missing when you're not together.

Because you're in love with her. 

The unrest that settled in your body when you told Lexa about Finn has slowly but surely seeped away, one ounce at a time, little by little. It's a relief having told Raven and Octavia, too. It calms you down knowing that you can always call at least one of them if you need a little support. 

The knowledge makes you stronger, and your newfound strength helps you fight your darkness.

 

//

 

Lexa and Samuel picks you up on Saturday morning. They ring the buzzer, and you tell them you'll be down right away. As you exit the apartment building, you're met by a grinning Samuel running towards you. He's every bit a clumsy five-year-old trying to run faster than his legs allow him, and you catch him in a hug swinging him around a few times before putting him back down onto his feet again. He's wearing his Superman T-shirt and he takes your hand immediately tugging you towards the car. 

It's such a cliché. The second you lay eyes on Lexa, you heart picks up speed. She's casually leaning against the car, a loose fitted button-up, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, thumbs tucked into her front pockets and a glowing smile on her lips; this look really suits her. 

“Clarke?” Samuel calls for your attention. 

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Can we see the penguins?” 

“I'm counting on it,” you grin down at him and he grins back up at you. You have a special surprise for him, but you plan on keeping it a secret until it's time. 

“It's all he's been talking about,” Lexa says as she pushes herself off the car. She greets you in a hug, one arm pulling tightly around your shoulders, the other around your waist. You're still holding on to Samuel's hand as she pulls you just a bit more closer. 

“I've missed you,” she whispers. 

“I've missed you too,” you tell her. A ridiculous amount of missing her has been happening inside the walls of your heart. 

Letting go of you, she leans in to kiss you. It's soft and chaste, and because you haven't seen her since Wednesday you kind of want to her to deepen it, but now is not the time because this day is about Samuel. When she looks at you, you get the feeling she's thinking the exact same thing. 

“Stay over tonight?” She whispers. 

“Hey Sam?” You look down at him, he's still hanging on to your hand. “What d'you say... Do you want to have SuperPancakes for breakfast with me tomorrow?”

“Uh, yes!” He pulls at your hand jumping a few times on the spot, clearly excited. 

“I guess that's settled then.” You share a grin with Samuel before looking back at Lexa. The adoration in her eyes is something you'll never grow tired of; you're certain of it.

“You, Clarke Griffin, are one of a kind,” she sighs. You wink playfully at her receiving one of those smirks that holds promises of trouble. 

 

//

 

Lexa and Samuel goes to the zoo when they miss Costia; this, you know. Therefore, you've been planning a couple of things to make this day different. You also made Lexa promise to tell you if you're doing something that might trigger them in a bad way. You remember about the monkeys so you won't take them there unless they ask for it specifically. The penguins are something you share with Samuel – it's safe – which is why you have something special planned for him there. 

Hank – a new co-worker of yours – greets you by the zoo entrance. He hands over the Honorary Guest name tag you prepared for Samuel in advance. You give these out to kids all the time, but Samuel doesn't have to know that. It has a penguin in the corner and Samuel beams with pride when you pin it to his shirt.

There are new baby goats at the petting zoo, and you take Samuel there to meet them. They're not yet ready to join the open petting zoo, but a controlled experience like this will ease them into it – a win-win. Samuel's gentle with them, intuitively, you don't even have to tell him. He talks to them in a hushed voice and he giggles when they nibble at his shirt. Lexa is crouching to pet them, too, and she looks like she's about to hide a few of them under her shirt. This was maybe too great an idea because you nearly have to drag them out of there to get going. 

It's time for your big surprise. You guide them to the penguin basin, it's almost feeding time. You guide them through the aquarium so Samuel can watch them swim underwater – how they use their wings for speed – for a while, and then you take them behind the scene. Keeping this a secret up until now has been hard; the excitement has been bottling up inside your body, and you can't wait to set it free. 

“So, Sam. They're feeding the penguins soon. Do you wanna help me prepare the food for them?”

He nods excitedly as he looks between you and Lexa as if he thinks this is something Lexa needs to approve of. She looks a little concerned so you tell her, “It's safe. I cleared it with the boss already. It's me, you, Sam and some dead fish.”

“Come on,” you say, as you unlock the door to the preparation room. You hand Samuel the smallest zookeeper shirt you could find so he doesn't get his own clothes dirty. It’s a dirty forest green, it reaches his knees and Lexa helps him fold up the sleeves to his elbows. 

You put two metal buckets on the floor and then pick up the styrofoam box with the fish. “The penguins eat small fish like these. Anchovies and sardines.” You pick up a few from the box to show Samuel. “What we need to do is fill these two buckets to the rim with small fish. Wanna help me?”

“Uh yes,” he scratches his nose, wide eyed and mouth agape. 

“Okay then, let's get started, Zookeeper Sam.” You wink at him and he grins at you. You begin moving fish to the buckets and Samuel grabs one in each hand. He looks at them curiously before placing them in a bucket. You look at Lexa who's grinning like an idiot, and you can't help the smile that breaks from your lips. Just then Hank joins you in the preparation room. 

“Thank you for your help, Sam. The penguins will love this. Do you wanna help me and Hank feed them?”

He nods excitedly again. 

“Okay, come on. I'll carry the buckets because they're heavy, and you and Mama follow me.” You guide them through a door that eventually lands you inside the penguins basin. There's a platform on which you place the buckets. Hank grabs a microphone and starts telling the zoo guests about the penguins while you tell Samuel about what's going to happen. 

“Everyone, say hi to Dr. Clarke,” Hank says. 

You hear murmurs of _”Hi Dr. Clarke”_ , so you turn around to wave at your audience while tugging Samuel towards the platform. “Dr. Clarke is our new veterinarian here at the zoo and she's here to make sure that all the animals are healthy. The handsome fella by her side is Zookeeper Sam. He's our honorary guest today and will help Dr. Clarke feed the penguins.”

“Okay, Sam. Are you ready?” You crouch in front of him and he looks excited but also a little scared, so you ruffle his hair and tell him that this is an easy peasy task for SuperBoy. The nickname seems to work because he puffs his chest and grins at you. 

While Hank tells the audience about the kind of fish you're feeding the penguins, you tug Samuel towards the buckets. You throw half a bucket into the water to lure the penguins away from Samuel, and then you instruct him to spread fish onto the platform around you. Meanwhile you throw the rest of the fish into the water. 

“Nicely done, Sam!” You high-five him before going back to Lexa who's waiting by the entrance door. “Come on, let's go get cleaned up.”

“Wait wait, let me take a picture first,” Lexa says, pulling out her phone. You kneel next to him and he leans into you, so you bring your arm around his waist holding onto him. You don't need to look at him to see the big grin on his face. It's there in Lexa's eyes as she watches the two of you. 

“Send it to me?” You ask Lexa as you walk back out into the park. 

“Of course,” she says. “So... Zookeeper Sam, well done!” She ruffles his hair. 

“I fed the penguins,” he grins. 

“Yeah, you did! So... Now what, Dr. Clarke?” Lexa's grin matches Samuel's. It's a beautiful sight. It suddenly hits you, that you caused it. They’re both grinning like idiots because of something you did. It's a pretty magnificent feeling; you could get used to this. 

“Well, my surprises are all done so whatever you wanna do,” you look at Samuel. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully before looking at Lexa. “Can we go see the monkeys, Mama?” 

“Of course, Sam,” she says.

Then he takes her hand and starts walking towards the monkey cages. Lexa reaches out for you, wiggling her fingers to take her other hand. It's not on purpose, but you're hesitant about it because you know what the monkeys mean to them. 

Lexa seems to pick up on it, because she lifts your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles. “Remember when we came in to get hot chocolate?” Her voice is timid and soft, a little sad too. 

“Yeah, I remember. Monkeys are Costia's favorite. Do you need to do this alone?” You expect this is about Samuel remembering his Mom and you don't want to impose. 

“No. I want you there, too. I just want to make sure you're okay with it. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad…” She trails off. 

You squeeze her hand to reassure her that you're okay with this. You are. Your hesitancy is mainly because you don't want to overstep any boundaries. 

The three of you find a spot on a bench at the gorilla cages. Samuel insists on sitting between the two of you, and you can tell by Lexa's reaction that he's acting different from what he usually does. You don't know in what way, though. 

“Clarke?” Samuel says. 

“Yeah, Sam?” You look at him and he looks up at you with proud eyes. 

“They are Mom's favorite,” he says. Then he looks back at the gorillas. 

“She could watch them for hours. Especially when they were carrying around their babies,” Lexa shares. She nudges Samuel playfully with her elbow against his shoulder. “Sam would cling to her like a baby gorilla.”

“That's why she called me Monkey,” he finishes. 

You don't know how to respond to that. You're speechless because he wants to share a piece of his mom with you. Your heart is aching because she sounds like a wonderful mom – wife, too – and you don't ever wish for anyone to experience a loss like that. You only have humor to go with so you say, “were you just as hairy as a baby gorilla too?”

He looks at you, blinking a few times, obviously thinking hard about your question. He then looks at Lexa. “Was I, Mama?” 

“No, Sam.” Lexa's laughter is bright and colorful. “You were butt naked underneath your clothes. Like now.” She initiates a tickle attack that leaves Samuel a giggling mess halfway onto your lap as he tries to escape it. 

“Come on, let's go home,” Lexa says as she lets him off the hook. 

Perhaps you did handle this situation pretty well, after all. 

 

//

 

“Thank you,” Lexa says as you enter her bedroom. Samuel is asleep and Bellamy isn't home tonight; it's just you and Lexa. 

“What for?” Honestly, you feel it should be you thanking her – she let you into her life. 

She sits on the edge of her bed all smoking hot in her sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders. You move to straddle her, and she slides her arms affectionately around your waist, her half smile pulling you in. 

“For today. For being so good with Sam. For dealing with the visit to the monkeys like you did.” She kisses you softly once. “For staying over tonight.” Her green eyes latch onto yours. “For being you.”

“That's quite a lot to be thankful for.” You can feel the blush burn on your cheeks. 

“There's more,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“Oh? Do tell.” You want to know where this is going. 

“Thank you for giving this a chance. Us.” She kisses you again. Just once. 

“Thank you for being a gorgeous, sexy woman currently sitting in my lap.” She leaves feather light kisses along your jaw. 

“Thank you for wearing an almost see-through T-shirt to bed.” She pulls your earlobe between her lips, it drives you up the wall. 

You want to laugh at her statement but it only comes out as a gasp. You need something to ground you so you dig your fingers into her hair. In return, she slides a hand up under your shirt, up your side, brushing a thumb along the curve of your breast. She continues her trail of kisses down your neck until she reaches the hem of your shirt. You like where this is going. 

She pauses.

“Don't stop,” you whisper.

“Patience, Clarke,” she chuckles. “This is in the way.” She pulls your shirt off, or tries to, but your hands are still entangled in her hair so the shirt ends up stuck around your head. 

You can't see her, but you can hear her laughing, her body vibrating against yours. You pout and apparently she _can_ see that because she leans in to kiss your pouty lips through the hole in your shirt. 

“Come on, SuperGirl, show me what you got,” she teases. 

“Shut up, Commander,” you playfully scold her. 

Your elbow is stuck which makes the shirt infuriatingly resistant against your struggle. Lexa chuckles again, then flips you over on your our back. She rids you of your shirt in one effortless tug. 

That thing you wanted to scold her for slips your mind as she smiles at you. You watch her; it's all you’re able to do. She leans in to continue her trail of kisses, feather light, from your collarbone down, down, down. Your body needs more, at arches against her. Her hands grasp under your knees pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. You watch her kneel on the floor in front of you, gently sliding your underwear off, lifting one of your legs over her shoulder.

You watch her watch you, holding on to your gaze, smirking at you. You want to kiss it off her face but you're paralyzed by the moment.

Blissfully numb, yes.

There's a spark in her eyes, it tells you she has a plan. She's being awfully mysterious about it, and you think, maybe, you have a thing for that, too. 

She continues her trail of kisses – no longer feather light but a burning fire instead – starting at the inside of your knee, moving teasingly slow up your thigh. You want to keep watching her, but the swirl of her tongue makes it really hard. It's impossible to fight as your head drops helplessly back into the sheets. All you see is the back of your eyelids, completely trusting Lexa to keep your quivering mess of a body afloat. You cling to her hair again ready to fall off the edge but she leaves you hanging as she straightens back up. 

“Don't stop,” you whine. Breathlessly. Desperately. You were never one for begging, but she leaves you no choice. 

“Patience, Clarke.”

You open your eyes just in time to watch her undress in front of you, a teasing smile on her lips as she lets her underwear fall to the floor. 

_Well, damn._

She guides your legs around her waist leaning in over you. You lock eyes with her, you must look confused because she says "patience" once more as she snakes an arm under your hips lifting you up off the bed – barely an inch – for a better angle, you presume. Her other arm supports her weight on the bed, you feel it brush against your shoulder as she slowly grinds into you. 

_”Ohgod,”_ you hear yourself gasp. The friction is so intense, it's nearly too much. It's just like on the dance floor the first time you met her; her movements become yours. 

There you are, back hanging off the edge again, your lungs burning, your muscles trembling. For a brief moment, you wonder if Lexa is there with you. It's barely a thought, because you're already free falling, reaching to grab something, her arms, her shoulders, her skin, anything. Her head becomes heavy against your shoulder; there's a hitch in her breath, and it ignites an explosion at the base of your spine, rippling through your body until your toes and fingers tingle. She trembles against you, too, until she can't hold you up anymore. She collapses on top of you, her lips against your collarbone. You think, maybe, she's hanging halfway off the bed; an absurd thought that adds amusement to the buzzing warmth in your body. 

_Holy…_

This body of yours, this vessel containing your soul, is in a fluid state; shimmering and shifting between a blissful ache and a feeling of not quite existing. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were flying. 

“What was that?” You say once you catch your breath, the tingling still present in your bones. 

“Sex, Clarke,” she deadpans lazily. 

“Oh, shush... Come up here and kiss me.” 

“You broke my body,” she objects, pushing herself up to lie next to you. You pull her in for a kiss the second you're able to; her lips are lazy and soft. 

“That was entirely your own doing,” you argue. “Seriously, what was that?” 

“Endurance and stamina,” she smiles against your lips. 

“Trouble,” you mumble as she sucks on your lower lip. 

“Yeah…” She sighs, copying the silly smile you feel on your lips. 

You let yourself enjoy a moment of calm, entangled in Lexa's arms and legs – her sweaty skin against yours, your body a bit of a broken mess, too – until your mind is finally clear enough to realize that the both of you are still halfway hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“Lexa?” You whisper, too tired not to. 

“Mh?” She sounds half asleep. 

“So when Sam wakes us up tomorr–”

She groans, interrupting you. “Yeah, we should probably put on clothes... You get it.” 

“ _You_ get it.”

“I told you, you broke my body.”

“You broke _mine_ ,” you argue. “Well, should we at least get under the covers?”

“We should…” She yawns.

__________

#### LEXA

You wake up in the middle of the night still snuggled up to Clarke. You're a little cold and your body aches in places you didn't know existed. You're both still naked lying halfway off the bed, and you don't want to have to explain yourself to Samuel if he were to find you like that, so you push yourself up off the bed to finally deal with it. 

Yeah, your body is broken.

Blissfully broken. 

Blissfully remembering doing that thing you always wanted to try but never have; not till now. It was... _hot_. It was... Yeah that's not the last time; especially not if Clarke keeps squirming against you like that. 

Blissfully exhausted. 

You crawl out of bed, sleepily searching for your tank top and sleep shorts. You put them on and leave Clarke's sleepwear on the bedside table. As you study Clarke, you consider two things: one, what did you ever do to deserve a gorgeous woman like her in your life, and two, how the hell are you going to get her under your sheets. 

“Clarke,” you sit down next to her running your fingers through her hair.

“Mmmhfive more minutes,” she mumbles. 

It takes master level persuasive skills to finally get her to sit up so you can pull the sheets off. “Clothes are on the bedside table if you need it,” you tell her as she lies back down. You turn off the bedside lamp before snuggling close to her. 

She yawns out a “g'night” and you press a soft kiss to her forehead before drifting off to sleep yourself. 

 

//

 

Samuel does wake you up the next morning, and Clarke is frantically trying to pull on her underwear underneath the sheets before he notices she's naked. 

You laugh at her. 

She scowls at you.

Her sleepy grumpy face is adorable, so you laugh at her a little more. 

You try to talk Samuel into snuggling up to you so you can all sleep a bit more, but Clarke is here and she promised him SuperPancakes, which is all he babbles on about. Excitedly. A little loud, too. 

“Clarke you promised my son pancakes,” you tease her. 

“Sam?” Clarke ignores you. 

“Uh, yes?” 

“Let's go make SuperPancakes. And because Mama is teasing us she can't have any,” she says as she climbs over you to get out of the bed. 

It's too tempting to pull her back down, and because you like teasing her, that's exactly what you do. It ends with Samuel and her joining forces again, tickling you; you let them win this time. It's perfect because you get a victory of your own, too, when Clarke leans in to kiss you. 

“Twenty minutes,” she tells you before giving Samuel a piggyback ride to the kitchen. 

Twenty minutes later you find a set table, a stack of pancakes and Samuel charming Clarke with his terrible jokes. 

One very clear thing crosses your mind. 

You could get used to this. 

 

//

 

After breakfast the three of you go to meet Raven and Octavia at the park. It's the perfect mild late autumn weather, and they brought blankets and cut fruit and a soccer ball to entertain Samuel with. Clarke smiles at you every time you sneak a peek at her, and it takes all your self control not to pull her into a kiss because you know you won't be able to keep it chaste with images of last night's activities behind your eyelids. 

“They're doing it again, Rae,” Octavia teases. 

“Doing what, O?” Raven plays along. 

“They're being all heart eyes gross,” Octavia smirks. 

“Oh, come on…” Clarke sighs defeatedly and you get the feeling that maybe they've been teasing her as much as Lincoln and Gustus have been teasing you. 

“Hey, Sam?” You call for his attention. 

“Yes, Mama?”

“Auntie O and Rae wants to play soccer with you.” You smirk back at Octavia as Samuel picks up the ball with an excited "Yes!" under his breath. You know she'd rather sit here eating fruit, but you also know she can't say no to his cute little face, so off they go to play soccer while you get a little peace from the teasing. Win-win. 

“I see you have your own bullies.” You lean back on your elbows letting the sun soak you up. 

“They call us clexa,” she sighs. 

“Clexa... I like it.” You only say that to tease Clarke a little. Truthfully, you’ve had years and years of practice ignoring Octavia’s name-calling. 

“Not you too,” she whines. 

“It's cute.” You wink at her. 

“Okay, I'm gonna ignore you said that and go grab us all some ice cream. Chocolate, banana...?”

“And vanilla and chocolate chip.” You finish off the list of everyone's ice cream favorites. 

“Okay.” 

You pull her in for a kiss before she gets up. She sighs against your lips, the perfect soundtrack to your own thoughts at the moment. As she walks towards the ice cream man you sneak a glance at Samuel playing soccer. Octavia falls dramatically to the ground after she lets Samuel kick the ball between her legs. Samuel giggles as Raven offers him a high five.

“Clarke?” A male voice you don't recognize interrupts your thoughts. You look in its direction to see who it is. 

“What are you doing here.” You hear Clarke say. Her body language is tense and uncomfortable, and for a split second you wonder if the sandy haired man is her ex. 

You get up with the intention of stepping in if needed, but you never get a chance to because Raven comes storming towards them. 

“Finn?” Raven's voice is laced with confusion.

“Raven?” The sandy haired man named Finn is obviously confused, too. 

Your eyes fall back on Clarke who looks like she's about to vomit. You assume it's _the_ Finn but you don't get how Raven fits into this. 

This can't be good.


	12. Punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's me again! 
> 
> I'm only a little bit sorry about last chapter's cliffhanger. I always wanted to write one and it seemed a perfect situation for it. Having said that, I love all your comments. Finn being linked to both Clarke and Raven was kind of obvious (because they are on the show too)... 
> 
> Where we go from here might be less obvious – I hope ;) 
> 
> Chapter by chapter, we're peeling off the layers to see what the characters are like when they're eventually stripped naked - metaphorically speaking. 
> 
> For now though, I believe some of you have expectations of Protective Lexa kicking Fuckboy Finn's ass. (Your words, not mine). Read this chapter and let's talk after ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!   
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

“What are you doing here?” Raven repeats Clarke's question. 

“I…” Finn looks at her with wide eyes. 

You watch his eyes flicker between Clarke and Raven. It's not lost on you that Raven seeks his gaze while Clarke avoids it. Clarke is avoiding your gaze, too, or rather, she's avoiding everything. She's coiled up inside herself, and you're afraid of what that means. In spite of the deep connection the two of you already have, you don’t actually know her that well; not well enough to foresee her reaction to a situation like this.

“You're here for Clarke, Finn?” Raven asks, clearly holding back anger; it’s the bite in her tone and the crease between her eyebrows. 

“Raven...” He lifts his hands in a defensive stance.

“No, Finn. Tell me! Did you leave me for Clarke?” Raven looks like she's about to explode.

_Oh…_

“I... I'm sorry, Raven.” He pleads with her.

“Leave,” Raven hisses. 

“Please, just give me two minutes, Clarke.” He ignores Raven and directs his pleading towards Clarke who now looks at him, the thunder in her eyes in deep contrast to the puppy look he sends her way.

“No, Finn. You don't get two minutes. You don't get two _seconds!_ Leave me alone, go home.” Clarke flares. 

“Please…” He begs, taking a step towards her. 

“No.” She says, finality in her voice. She turns around to walk away. 

“Clarke, please. I've changed, I'm in therapy now.” He keeps begging, stopping her with a hand on her bicep. 

Clarke flinches, so you’re done watching. You're there immediately, your hand on his chest and a controlled demand, “Get your hands off her!” 

It’s not usually you to meddle with other people’s business, but something inside you snaps when people don’t respect a rejection. Knowing who Finn is and what he did to Clarke makes you just a little more prone to _meddling_ in this case. If he won’t respect Clarke, you won’t respect him either.

You feel him cower under your glare, but he doesn’t step back. 

“Stay out of it,” he says, returning your stare. 

“She told you to leave her alone. Do yourself a favor and respect that,” you tell him.

He's getting angry. His nostrils flare. He huffs out an impatient breath of air. He blinks a few times, bites his lip forcefully, and you assume that's him trying to keep his anger under control. Looking at Clarke, his eyes grow sad before he lets go of her arm. 

Clarke walks towards Octavia and Samuel; your heart sighs of relief knowing she's seeking safety with them instead of running away. 

Raven is crying, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. You can't really tell if she's sad, angry or disappointed. Maybe it's all three of them. 

“Damn it, Finn. Why did you come here?” Raven says. She's broken, concerned and accusing him of things you don't know what are, all at the same time. 

“She left me,” he says, broken too. “I love her.” He lowers his head in defeat and you almost feel sorry for him. Almost. You know what he did to Clarke, and that’s something you won’t ever forgive him for. 

“She left you because you hit her, Finn! What the hell did you expect?” Raven yells. 

“I... It's not... I'm not that man anymore, Rae, I–”

“Don't, Finn! Just... leave. Go away and don’t come back. Please!” Raven backs away, wiping her tears off her cheeks before turning around.

Your hand is still on Finn's chest. You make sure to keep it there until he meets your eyes again. “Let them go, Finn. They moved on. You should too.”

He's shaking, not from anger, but from heartbreak. You can see it in his eyes. You wonder if Clarke is what makes him strong, if she's the only reason he went to therapy. You wonder what will happen to him now Clarke rejected him. You remember a time you wanted to give up; you didn't because you had Samuel. You were only able to stay strong for Samuel. 

“Yeah…” he says. “I don't think I can.”

“You have to, okay? Not just for Clarke, but for yourself too.” You tell him. “I know you don't have any reason to believe me, but I've been there. Find something that keeps you strong, and if that's therapy for you, then hang on to it until you're strong enough for yourself.”

He looks in Clarke's direction, swallows hard, then nods and walks away. You stand still, watching the back of his broken body until it disappears around the corner. You're not entirely sure this is the last time you'll see him, but for Clarke – Raven, too – you really, _really_ hope it is. 

You go back to the others, the pain in Clarke's eyes break your heart. You've never seen her like this, not even when she first told you about him. Samuel is quiet, you know he's intuitive enough to understand this isn't a good thing, but he's not crying or looking scared. Octavia has her hands on his shoulders, tugging him against her front, so you decide it’s safe to check on Clarke first. 

You pull her into a hug. 

You don't say anything. 

Words won't fix it, but you hope she – all things considered – still feels safe in your arms. You feel her shaky breath against your shoulder, her cheeks getting moist against your neck, her weak hands clinging onto the fabric of your shirt. You rub circles on her back, you gently massage her neck, you kiss her on the side of her head. You don't let go.

Not until Samuel's voice breaks the silence. 

“Mama?” He whispers, and you feel his tiny arm wrap around your leg. 

“Yeah, Sam?” You look down to see he's hugging Clarke's leg with his other arm. 

He doesn't say anything else, he just looks up at you with his sad dusty blue eyes. He does look scared now, and you're torn between needing to comfort both Samuel and Clarke. 

Letting go of Clarke is the most painful thing you’ve ever had to do. You reach down to pick up Samuel, he wraps his arms around your neck and the second his chin rests on your shoulder he starts sobbing. You cup Clarke's cheek with your free hand, it's all you can do and it's not enough. 

“It's okay, Sam,” you tell him. 

He clings to you. 

“Clarke,” you thumb her fresh tears away. “I need you to do me a favor. It's a big one but I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn't important.”

She's recoiling. It’s in the way her eyes lose focus and the way her chin drops an inch. It feels like your heart is dropping a million inches along with it.

“Hey, stay with me,” you say, pulling her into a sideways hug. It’s clumsy because Samuel takes up most of your embrace, but it’s all you’ve got right now. “I'm right here okay? I'm not going anywhere,” you whisper. 

A hesitant nod. 

“Can you do me a favor?” You ask her. 

“Yes,” she says. 

“Okay. Go with O and Rae. Stay with them until I'm able to come and get you, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“...yes.” She whispers; vulnerable, broken, weak. 

“We got you,” Raven says, and you feel Clarke being pulled out of your grasp and into Raven's arms. 

“Take her to your place?” You ask Octavia. 

“Of course,” she says. 

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” You promise them. 

Watching them walk away is like a knife to your heart. It feels like betrayal, like you failed Clarke somehow, it’s bittersweet on your tongue. You wrap both your arms tightly around Samuel and carries him towards the ice cream man. You buy a scoop of chocolate ice cream for him and find a free bench to sit on. 

“Ice cream?” You hand him the cup and he takes it hesitantly. 

“I'm proud of you, Sam,” you tell him, mainly because you know it'll get his attention. “You handled today really well. You were calm and stayed with Auntie O. I know it was scary but you don't have to be afraid, okay?”

Samuel is quiet, staring at the ice cream, a proof of him thinking hard about something. 

“Will he come back?” Samuel asks. 

“I don't think so, Sam. But if he does, remember you have me and Auntie O and Raven and Uncle Bellamy and even Clarke to look out for you, okay? Remember what Mom used to say? We're stronger…”

“Together,” he says matter-of-factly, finishing your sentence for you.

“That's right! We're stronger together.”

He subconsciously starts eating his ice cream and by the time he's done, he's smiling a little and telling you terrible jokes. You walk back home to get your car because you and Samuel are on a mission to make Clarke feel better, and because it's Sunday and most stores are closed you might need to drive a while to get what you need.

__________

#### OCTAVIA

You enter the house, all three of you taking a seat in the kitchen. You were standing too far away to hear what they talked about so you have a million questions, but you're afraid to say anything. It's not just Clarke, but Raven too, and you don't understand why. The silence is killing you, so you might as well play with fire. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

Raven and Clarke shares a pained look. “How long were you together, Clarke?” Raven ignores you, so you go back to just watching them. 

“Rae…” Clarke sighs, closing her eyes. 

“Please, Clarke, I need to know.”

“Three years.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, Rae, I didn't know.”

“Son of a…” Raven mutters through gritted teeth, her eyes welling up. 

You sit there, on the edge of your chair, dumbstruck, listening to an intense conversation you feel is too personal for you to be witnessing, but you can't move. You need to know what's going on. You need to make sure they're both okay. 

“Who was he?” You ask, afraid of the answer. You have a feeling, not a good one. 

“Finn,” Clarke says. 

“Who's Finn?” You ask. 

“My ex,” Clarke explains. 

“Your…” That's what you were afraid of. He’s the one she’s been running from. You look at Raven who's blinking tears out of her eyes, you still don’t quite understand how she fits into this. “Rae?” 

“He's Rae's ex too,” Clarke continues. The lack of emotion in her voice makes the skin on your back shiver. 

“Shit…” You hear yourself mutter. You know _I'm sorry’s_ and _it's gonna be okay’s_ aren’t worth a dime so instead you get up and pull ice cream out of the freezer. “Okay, ice cream, TV, couch,” you say and walk into the living room. They don't follow you, so you walk back to command them with a “Now!”. They both get up to follow you this time, throwing themselves weakly onto the couch. You throw a blanket at them and force a spoon into their hand. This is the only thing you know how to do. Bellamy was always better at this; pulling people out of their darkness.

“Eat. Cry. Hate the world.” You tell them. 

Clarke is the first to dig her spoon into the ice cream and you smile proudly at nothing in particular when Raven leans her head on Clarke's shoulder. That’s mission accomplished, right there.

“I'm not mad at you, Clarke. Just him.” Raven says. 

“Me too,” Clarke replies.

__________

#### LEXA

An hour and twenty minutes. That's how long it takes for you and Samuel to finally find what you're looking for. Samuel falls asleep in his car seat on the way back, so you have to wake him up when you pull up by Octavia's house. Normally, you'd carry him to his bed and let him sleep, but this is kind of an emergency and you need him to help you. Besides, he’d throw one hell of a tantrum if you didn’t wake him up for this. 

It’s with your heart beating a nervous rhythm that you walk inside to find the three of them under blankets in the couch. “Hey,” you announce your presence from the doorway, Samuel on your arm. He's got his one arm around your neck, the other tightly clinging to Clarke's surprise. 

They all look at you; Clarke and Raven look exhausted, and Octavia greets you with a “hey” back. 

“Can I borrow you, Clarke?” You nudge your head towards the kitchen. She smiles sadly and goes to meet you. You put Samuel down and tell him to go to auntie O, and that you and Clarke will be right back. You promise him he gets to give Clarke the surprise when you're back. 

In the kitchen you want to tell her you're sorry for having to leave her to fix Samuel. You want to tell her that she doesn't have to worry about Finn, that you'll make sure to put a restraining order on him if he does show up again. You want to tell her you're here and she's safe, but all the words are stuck in your throat. Then Clarke's arms surround you, which is when you finally let go of all the anger and frustration. You cry into her shoulder and she hushes you back to calm with a “It's okay, Lex” and her hands caressing your back. 

“I'm sorry,” you choke. 

“Why?” She whispers. 

“I couldn't keep you safe.” You don't know where that came from, but the second it's out you realize you blame yourself for Finn showing up. In this moment it doesn’t really matter that you know that you couldn’t possibly cause such a thing to happen.

“You did keep me safe. You _do_ keep me safe,” she says, cupping your cheeks. You look at her and she says, “Lexa, listen to me. None of us knew he'd show up. I know I'm safe here, okay? That's mainly because of you.”

She kisses you. 

“I wasn't prepared for him to find me here,” she whispers.

You kiss her. 

“Can I ask you something?” You think maybe you do have the answer, but you need to make sure. 

“Of course.”

“How does Raven fit into this?” You watch her eyes flutter shut, pulling in a deep breath. She leans her forehead against yours before answering. 

“He's Raven's ex too.” She says. “I didn't know until today. Raven says they were engaged when he ended things with her. By the looks of it, he was dating the both of us for half a year. None of us knew.” 

You feel the anger boil inside you. Not only did he disrespect Clarke, he disrespected Raven, too. Not one, but two of your favorite people. Clarke rests a hand against your jaw and you realize it's locked from the anger. She brushes her thumb against it, a gesture that calms you down surprisingly fast. 

“What did you say to him after I left?” Clarke asks. 

"He said he loves you, and Raven yelled at him for showing up, told him to leave. I... After Costia died... Sam was the one thing that kept me going, and something in Finn's eyes told me _you're_ what makes him keep going, so I told him to stay in therapy until he was able to be strong for himself.”

There's a hitch in Clarke's breath. Looking at her, you think maybe it’s fear you see in her eyes. 

“I told him both you and Raven have moved on, and that he needs to let you go. For your sake and for his too.”

Clarke is quiet. Too quiet. You wonder if it was the wrong thing to say. You wonder if Clarke worries about Finn; if she'd blame herself if he were to hurt himself. For a split second you worry Clarke will leave you to go back to him. 

“Clarke?”

“I'm okay... I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of it.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Hug me. Keep being you,” she says, leaning into you. 

“I can do that,” you tell her, pulling her closer.

“How's Sam?” She asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. 

“He's okay. He was a little scared, but a pep talk and ice cream helped. He's got a surprise for you." Samuel is probably pestering Octavia with his impatient ramblings right now. “Are you ready to go back in?”

She straightens up, seeking out your eyes. “Yeah, I am. Thank you for coming back,” she says. She leans in to place a soft kiss to your lips before tugging you back towards the living room. 

Samuel meets her halfway, Clarke picks him up and takes a seat on the couch with him in her lap. “Someone tells me you have a surprise for me,” she says, smiling at Samuel.

“Uh, yes!” He lifts the wrapped present in his hands. 

“That's for me?” She widens her eyes in surprise, not unlike the first time he gave her a blue flower. 

He nods firmly. 

Clarke carefully peels off the blue wrapping. It's messily wrapped by you in the back seat of your car, Samuel insisting on helping, but you know Clarke doesn't care and it made Samuel happy. She peels off the last layer. The grin on her face is worth every one of those two times eighty minutes you spent on the road with an impatient, tired five-year-old. 

This. 

Clarke holding up a Superman T-shirt against her torso, looking down checking out herself and then looking at Samuel. “What do you think, Sam? Does it look good?” She asks him, winking at him. 

“Uh, yes!” He grins.

“Wanna tell her what it's for?” You kindly remind Samuel. 

“To make you feel safe,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Like Mama's magical sheets?” Clarke asks him

“Uh, yes,” Samuel says thoughtfully. 

Raven and Octavia burst out laughing. “Mama's magical sheets?” Octavia asks through laughter. 

“For the night monsters!” You scold her with a pointed look. 

“Sure. If you say so,” Octavia tries to hold back her laughter, but then she looks at Raven and they start laughing again. 

_”Sorry,”_ Clarke mouths when you look at her. She then looks back at Samuel. “Thank you Sam, it's very thoughtful of you. I love it.” 

He then leans into her, still tired from a long day, and your heart swoons when Clarke's arms wrap around him, leaving a tiny kiss on his hair. Your heart nearly doesn't have room enough to deal with all the emotional overload, but Clarke looks at you, anchoring you to her bright blue eyes, and it's okay.

__________

#### CLARKE

You struggle with the realization that Finn found you. You do feel safe; these new people in your life all have your back, but you're terrified because you don't know if Finn knows where you live, or how he's going to react if he approaches you again and you reject him then, too. You don't know if he'll be drunk and angry; you don't know if he'll only approach you when you're alone. You don't know if you're strong enough to deal with him if that were to happen. 

What if?

You loved him once. You know there's a good, kind Finn in there somewhere. A part of you aches when Lexa tells you he's a mess, it's that same part of you that held him at night when he woke up screaming from nightmares, held him together like superglue until he calmed down and fell back asleep. He's been close to the brink many times before. 

What if? 

Did you give up on him too fast? 

The photos they took of your wounds at the hospital tells you no. Your bruised ribs and your busted lip scream NO! 

He gave up on himself! 

You gave him more chances than you should have. The evidence is clearly there. 

Memories of Kind Finn awaken a doubtful maybe in your mind; they tell you that Kind Finn doesn't deserve to be abandoned. Only, the memories of kind Finn is now tainted with this new knowledge of Raven. Kind Finn cheated on both of you. Kind Finn never existed except in your head, your past. Kind Finn is a lie. Your past is a lie. 

_”Hey, it's okay,” someone whispers. The voice is soft and you want to cling to it, but Angry Finn and Kind Finn are battling each other and you're not able to look away. You need to know who wins._

_”Clarke, it’s okay, I'm here, you're safe!”_

_Kind Finn smiles at you with warm eyes and for a second you think it's over, that he won, but then Angry Finn comes out of nowhere, tackling Kind Finn to the ground throwing punch after punch until Kind Finn stops moving._

_Angry Finn throws one last punch for good measure before he looks up at you, cold eyes, sad eyes,_ accusing _eyes. He pushes himself off the ground and walks towards you, his fists clenched by his side. “Where were you?” He roars, and you don't get a chance to answer before his fist swings at you–_

“Clarke!” 

It's not a brutal fist in your face, but a soft hand, thumbs wiping at your cheeks. You realize you're not only clinging to the soft voice, but a soft body, too. Green eyes are in front of you; soft eyes, wide eyes, _concerned_ eyes. _She's_ holding _you_ together like superglue, and that's when you realize you're shaking. Crying and shaking and gasping for air. 

“You're okay,” she says. “I'm here. Breathe, okay? I'm here.” 

“Lexa?” You need to know this is real. You need to know Angry Finn _isn't_ real. 

“I'm here, Clarke. It's okay,” she comforts you and it _feels_ real so you give in. You press your forehead against her collarbone and let her encase you with her arms. You feel safe here. For now. 

 

//

 

Monday morning is like walking through fire, so you call in sick. The need to stay in bed – under Lexa’s comfortable sheets, a safe place to be – is overpowering to the point that you almost can’t bare Lexa looking at you. She somehow talks you into joining her at the gym because she has something to show you.

It’s just the two of you in one of the rooms in the back; Lexa made sure of it. You're wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt when she helps you put on boxing gloves. You let her even though you don't know what she wants you to do. 

“I used to teach self defense classes,” she explains. “If you want, I could teach you some defense techniques, but that's not what this is about. Remember you told me you could handle him as long as you're sober?”

She looks at you until you say, “yes.”

“I believe you. I agree. I saw it in your eyes when you rejected him yesterday. It wasn't fear but anger. But I don't think you realize that yourself, so, I want to show you.”

“I don't understand…” you say, because you don't.

“If you recognize what you feel as what it is, anger, and you learn how to channel it constructively instead of keeping it inside, I believe you'll realize you're not afraid of him. Once you realize _that_ you'll be free, able to move on.” She leans in to kiss you right between your eyebrows. “Don't worry,” she says. “I'll show you.”

She makes you do warm up exercises and you hate her a little because of it. She smiles playfully at you and you hate her a little for that, too. You don't actually hate her, you just really don't like exercising. 

“Come on, SuperGirl,” she says leading you to a punching bag. She shows you the basic techniques, and you make her show you once or twice extra because she's kind of hot when she punches the bag; the muscles in her arms flex at impact and you kind of have a thing for that, too. She narrows her eyes scornfully at you when she realizes what you’re doing. You just shrug. All work no play was never your thing. 

She then takes her position behind the bag, her hands on it to control it. She tells you to punch, so you do. She tells you to punch harder, so you do. “Harder,” she repeats, and you try. 

“Where's the anger, Clarke.” It's not a question, she's commanding you, her voice dangerously echoing from the depths of her lungs. 

“I don't control it, Lexa!” You spit back. 

“Punch!”

You punch. 

“You come home, Finn is angry and he hits you. Why.”

You stare at the punching bag, then at her. “What?” 

“Why did he hit you.”

“He was sad.”

“Punch.”

You punch. 

“Why did he hit you.”

“He was drunk.”

“Punch.”

You punch. 

“What else.”

“I was twenty minutes late.”

She doesn't need to tell you to punch this time. 

“Did he apologize.” 

“Yes.”

“What did he say.”

“He said he loved me, that he never meant to hurt me.” It hurts saying out loud. You keep your eyes focused on the punching bag as to not waver.

“Did you believe him.”

You blink. One. Twice. Thrice. You punch. 

“Did you believe him.” Lexa commands, louder this time. 

“Yes!” You yell, landing another punch. Your knuckles hurt from the impact. 

“That makes you angry.” It's a statement, not a command. 

“Yes.” Tears start welling up. 

“Why.”

You punch. 

“Why.” Louder. 

You punch harder. Twice. 

“Why, Clarke. Why does it make you angry.”

“Hit he me!” You punch. “He said he loved me!” Punch. “He said he'd never do it again!” Punch. Punch. “But he did!” Punch. Your knuckles are burning now. Your jaw hurts from gritting your teeth. 

“Harder!” Lexa commands. 

You punch harder. The excess of strength you put into it pushes the tears forward, too. There’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. It’s fuel to the ticking bomb that rumbles in your gut.

“He promised it wouldn't happen again. But it did. How did that make you feel.” 

“Hurt.” Punch. “Angry.” Punch. “Betrayed.” Punch punch. 

“Why didn't you hit him back.”

“What?” You don't understand the question. Well, you understand the question, but you don't understand why she would asks you that. 

“Punch, Clarke.”

You punch. 

“You throw a proper punch, why didn't you hit him back.”

“I loved him.”

“He loved you and he still hit you. Why didn't you hit him back.”

You feel violated. Caught up with your past, your wounds ripped open and the blood fosses out. All you can do is stand there and watch it happen. Lexa's question is _so goddamn obvious_ but you don't have an obvious answer. Except... 

“What do you want me to say, Lexa? I loved him.” You look at her through a veil of tears. “I could never hurt him.”

“I know,” she says, just a little bit softer. “That's my point. Punch.”

You land three hard punches before you drop your arms by your side. Pulling in air through your nose. You start sobbing. Hard. Almost hyperventilating. You wipe furiously at your eyes but the boxing gloves are useless. You feel soft hands on your shoulders, Lexa's hands. “I'm here,” she says softly. She cups your cheeks wiping the tears away. 

“That thing you feel right now. Fear or anger?” She's not commanding you anymore. She's taking care of you. 

“Anger.”

“Do you feel better or worse now?”

“Better.” Your knuckles hurt like hell, but they hurt more than the void in your heart and it's such a relief.

“You've been running, Clarke. That's an act of fear and not what you really need. You need to learn to deal with the anger, you need to get it out because it's poisonous.”

You nod against her hands, helplessly and weak. 

She carefully takes off your boxing gloves, kissing each and every one of your knuckles before pulling you into a hug. 

“You okay?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

“I wasn't too hard on you?”

“No.” 

You pull out of the hug to look at her. “I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

_I love you._

It almost slips out. Almost. You feel it at the tip of your tongue, it's the salt on your lips and the skipping of beats in your heart. You do love her – more than you've ever loved anyone else before – but it's too soon, right? 

“Thank you,” you say instead. “I didn't know how bad I needed to punch something.”

She chuckles. “You're welcome. It's there if you ever feel the need again.” She nods towards the punching bag and leans in to kiss you. “Come on, shower and lunch?” 

“Deal.” The last twenty-four hours have been madness, a hurricane out of control. You know it's going to hit you hard once it settles. For now, though, lunch with Lexa sounds like an ideal distraction.


	13. Sleep Doesn't Come Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are truly the best. I love how you all expected Lexa to go all protective ass-whooping on Finn but you still liked that I handled it differently.  
> Thank you <3
> 
> I only want to say one thing before you read this chapter: there are quite a lot of (switching between) POVs, and if it feels confusing, well then it may be on purpose :)
> 
> I sincerely hope you'll like this. I'm taking a bit of a risk with this one, and I'm pretty sure it's obvious when you read it.  
> Let me know what you think!?
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

Sleep doesn’t come easy. How can it when Finn is still out there and Clarke insists on sleeping in her own apartment? You don’t blame her; if it were you, you’d insist on your own independence too. Behind all the worry, you're actually really proud of her. She's a real fighter. She stands up for herself, but it doesn’t change the fact that every cell in your body vibrates from the need to be there for her. You need to be _with_ her. It makes you sick to your gut that you don’t know how to fix this mess. Samuel is here and Clarke is there. It’s not that you need to be where Clarke is per se; it’s that you need to be where Clarke is _in case_ Finn shows up again. Just to be on the safe side.

Every time Costia went overseas you’d feel like this too. Powerless. Helpless. You couldn’t protect her because you weren’t there; just like then, you can’t protect Clarke right now because you’re not there. The fact that Clarke is only ten minutes away feels like life mocking you, rubbing it on your face. 

While you need to make sure Clarke is safe, Samuel will always be more important, and that's what's _really_ bothering you right now. Choosing Samuel feels a little like betraying Clarke. Samuel comes first. He always will.

No matter what you do, you can't win. 

(Sleep doesn’t come easy.)

__________

#### CLARKE

Sleep doesn’t come easy. How can it when Finn is still out there? The cartoon music that flows from the TV speakers are not enough to mute the piercing silence. It ripples up your spine and settles in the back of your mind. It feels like a nightmare but you know it's real. You fight hard to remind yourself that you're angry with him, not afraid of him; just like Lexa taught you.

You're angry, damn it! 

You loved him and he betrayed your trust.

You loved him… 

Finn was a kind man. He was gentle with you and he always knew just how to make you smile. He was your rock, and his love for you was sweet and warm. Then he went to war. You understood why he had to, what it meant to him, but that didn't stop you from fearing the worst. The day he came home to you – alive – was a day of relief. 

You loved him. 

He wasn't the same Finn. No, he _was_ the same Finn; just alternated. On his good days, he was everything you needed, but his bad days were tough. You loved him, so you took care of him. He sacrificed himself for his country and came back a broken man; no one deserves to be punished for that, so you made sure to take care of him. 

Then your dad died. 

Your dad was even more important to you than Finn was. While your mom was a terrible parent – detached, too engaged in her career to be there for you – your dad was the best kind. Losing him shook you and you needed Finn to keep you together. Never in a million years did you expect that he’d push you away. You reached out for him, just like he always reached out for you, but instead of giving you a hand to hold he threw you a fist. 

You loved him…

Still, through all of this, you can't help but wonder how he's doing. You hope he's found solace in something. Anything. You almost can't bare it if he hasn't.

(Sleep doesn’t come easy.)

__________

#### FINN

Sleep doesn't come easy. How can it when you finally – after months of searching – find her and she then rejects you as if what you have means nothing at all? 

If you must be honest, sleep never really does come easy to you. Not anymore. Not since you came back. Every time you close your eyes, flashes of your brothers dying around you flood your mind. You still hear their screaming sometimes. You’re afraid of your own nightmares because they're so damn real. 

The first time you hit Clarke it was an accident. She woke you up during a nightmare to comfort you, and for a fragment of a second you were still at war. When you hit her, you thought you were fighting for your life, you thought she was a threat. 

You never forgave yourself for that. 

You did your best to make it right. 

It made you angry, not with her but with yourself. It took you way too long to realize that you took out all your problems on her. She needed you while mourning her dad and all you did was get wasted and yell at her. You were angry with yourself, not her. Still, you hit her again because she came home late, and you didn't want to admit you needed her, that you were terrified of being alone. Instead of telling her that, you hit her. After that, you did your best to hit the walls and the furniture in your home instead. It was the best you could do. It was all you could do. Still, she stayed by your side, and you never understood that about her. 

Sometimes it feels like you never came home; that you're still at war. Your own mind is the most lethal battlefield you've ever entered. It's a fight you can't win on your own, you've got no weapons to defend yourself. It's something you realized way too late. 

She trusted you and you hit her again. Because you hated yourself. Not her; never her. She's your light in the dark and you promised to never hurt her. 

Then you promised to never hurt her again. 

The last time it wasn't you. Or, it was _her_ blood on _your_ hands, but you don't remember hitting her. It was bad; gut churning and unforgivably bad. You were trembling with anger and fear and you needed it to stop. You were desperate to make it stops… you must have blacked out. 

You don’t remember hitting her. You wish you did because you deserve to live with the knowledge, the burden. 

You took her to the hospital, and the second she was in good hands you disappeared. You fled; you ran away like a coward. You were afraid that it would happen again. You were afraid of the consequences. You were afraid to lose her. You were afraid of yourself. 

She's your light in the dark and you promised to never hurt her. 

But you did.

Repeatedly. 

You tried staying away, leaving her alone. You thought it was the only way to keep her safe. But she's your light in the dark and you can't live without her; so you did what you had to do. You went to therapy. It helped and you now understand why you did what you did. You now have the right tools to deal with it. 

You missed her so damn much; you still do.

You went back home to tell her that, but she was gone. All her stuff was still in your apartment, but she was gone. That was the first time you cried since you came back from war. You cried and you let yourself mourn the loss of your brothers and you swore you were going to find your way back to Clarke. She needs to know you're better and you won't hurt her again. You need her to know that.

Because she's your light in the dark. 

(Sleep doesn’t come easy.)

__________

#### LEXA

The buzz of your phone against the surface of the bedside table pulls you from your sleepless slumber. For a buzz or two, you consider ignoring it because you so desperately need your sleep. The third buzz sends a wave of fear through your body, because what if it's Clarke and she needs you. You reach for the phone before the fourth buzz; the name SuperGirl flashes alarmingly on the screen. A gruelling chill runs down your spine as you take the call. 

“Clarke, are you okay?” You need to know. 

_“He's here.”_

Clarke’s voice is barely a whisper.

“What? Finn? Where are you?” You're already on your feet to get dressed.

_“I'm home. He's outside my door. I don't… He sounds drunk… I don't know what to do.”_

Clarke is still whispering, you assume she's trying to wait it out, maybe fake that she's not there. 

_“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called y–”_

“–No! Clarke, listen to me. I'm here. I'm glad you called me. Tell me, is he trying to get in? Does he know you're there?” It takes all your strength to keep a calm voice. You need Clarke to stay calm while you figure out how to help her. 

_“I’m not sure. He's been calling for me a few times. I think he decided to camp outside my door.”_

She sounds broken and lost; not terrified, though. You saw her extra locks on the door when you were there, and it's going to take more than a drunk Finn to get through those.

“Okay, that's good. That gives us time, yeah?”

_“I don't… I can't handle him sitting there, Lex. I don't want to call the cops. I just want him gone.”_

“I'm on my way.” You struggle to keep your phone against your ear as you pull on a pair of sweatpants, then a hoodie. You made him walk away once, who's to say you can't do it again. You rush to Bellamy's room because you need him to look out for Samuel while you're gone. 

_“No, I can't ask you to–”_

“–I'm coming, Clarke. Just stay put, okay? Do you need me to stay on the line?” You push open the door to Bellamy's room. He’s already awake and looking at you with confusion written all over his face. 

_“Uh, I can't ask–”_

“–Clarke! Do you want me to stay on the line?” 

_“Yes.”_

Realizing that Clarke needs you but doesn't feel like she can ask for it breaks your heart. 

“What's going on?” Bellamy asks. 

“Finn is outside Clarke's apartment door. I need you to look out for Sam while I’m gone,” You tell him.

“What? I'm not letting you go alone.” He gets out of bed before you can object.

“Bell, I need you–” You try to reason with him, but Bellamy is the protector of his people. 

“–We'll drop him off at O’s on the way.” He interrupts you, already dressed and ready. 

You don't want to wake up Samuel for this, but you wouldn't mind Bellamy's help if it does turn out ugly at Clarke's place.

“Okay.” You nod heavily, drawing air into your lungs. You return to talk to Clarke while Bellamy rushes to get Samuel ready. “Clarke? You there?”

_”Yes.”_

“Bell and I are coming to get you, okay? If you can, then pack what you need and stay inside until we get there.”

_“Okay.”_

__________

#### CLARKE

How on Earth did he find you? More importantly, how the hell did he get through the main door of the building? It doesn't matter now; he's here and you need to deal with it. You won't lie; after he showed up at the park, your first instinct was to run again. You almost did, too. You were standing in your kitchen looking out onto the street below thinking you've done it before, so why not again. Then you looked at Samuel's penguin on the refrigerator and Lexa's voice appeared in the back of your mind, strong and clear.

_’Punch!’_

_’You’re angry, running doesn't fix that.’_

There's a narrow space between your bed and the wall, and you've squeezed yourself into it in a desperate attempt of feeling safe. The extra locks you had installed when you moved in should hold him out were he to try to force his way in; if only you could install similar locks in your mind, too, to keep out the darkness. 

The wedge between your bed and the wall keeps you from pacing restlessly around. It prevents you from making unnecessary noises; you're still silently praying that he gives up and leaves, thinking you're not home. 

You can hear your own breath; it's shallow and fast. You can hear the inside of Lexa's car through the phone; no one is talking, but still it's a soothing sound. You can hear Finn shuffle against your apartment door; his movements are clumsy and his voice slurry as he calls out for you. 

“Clarke. Please. I need to talk to you. Clarke. Are you there?”

He sounds drunk. 

Drunk usually means he's Angry Finn, but he doesn't sound angry; he just sounds lost. Lost and broken. 

“I miss you.”

You loved him. A part of you still feels the need to comfort him when he's broken. A part of you still wants to run away, far away from him. 

_”Clarke are you there?”_

Lexa's voice is in your ear. 

“Yes.” Your whisper cuts through the deafening silence around you, and you flinch, again, praying he didn't hear you.

_”Are you okay?”_

“Yes.” All things considered. 

_”Okay. We're pulling up outside now. I'm gonna hang up and we're gonna talk to him, hopefully he'll leave voluntarily. Okay?”_

“Okay.”

You can't see much from the wedge between the bed and the wall. It's pitch black outside except for the pale yellow glow from the street light. Your view is limited to your small bedroom and the shadows dancing on your walls and ceiling. Still, it's easy to picture what happens as you hear a car pull up outside, car doors slamming and footsteps scuffling along the pavement. 

A jolt of fear runs through your body as your phone buzzes in your hand. It's a text from Lexa telling you they need you to buzz them in. Which means you're gonna have to get up, walk to the door and click the buzzer. Which means he might actually hear you. 

_’Punch!’_

It takes all your strength to pull yourself up and move towards the door. Holding your breath, you take one cautious step at a time, and you try to ignore the fact that one step closer to the door also means one step closer to Finn. It's with slow, shaky movements that you reach for the buzzer. It's with a nervous system on high alert as you listen for any reaction to you buzzing them in. 

It's immediate. 

The echoes of footsteps in the stairwell and the muffled sounds of Finn using your door as support to get up off the floor. The door shakes by the impact and you instinctively take two steps back. You hate what he's made of you. It makes you angry. 

_’Punch!’_

“Hello, Finn. I thought we agreed that you should go back home.” Lexa's voice appears on the other side of the door. Her words are not a question, but an uncompromising accusation. 

“No,” Finn replies. 

“No? Why don't we go outside and have a chat, Finn? Just the two of us?”

Wait, does that mean Bellamy isn’t there? 

“No. I'm staying here till I get to talk to her.” He slurs. He loses his balance against the door, it sounds like.

“Hey, easy, buddy.” 

That's Bellamy's voice, which means he’s here too.

“Don't touch me!”

Shit, that's Angry Finn. His yelling makes you flinch again. 

_’Punch!’_

There's more muffled shuffling outside your door, and the next thing you hear is Finn’s furious outburst. 

“Let go of me!”

”I want to, Finn, but I can't unless you calm down.” Lexa is calm and collected. As always. 

The next thing you know, you fling open the door. It's an impulse you can't explain. You find Lexa holding Finn in place, his arm twisted onto his back, his front up against the wall. Bellamy stands behind her, nostrils flaring, jaw shut tight and his fists clenching by his sides. He's clearly _not_ calm and collected. 

“Clarke!” Finn cries. “Tell them to let go of me. I just want to talk to you.”

“I told you, Finn, not before you calm down.” Lexa’s voice is calm as ever. 

You look at Lexa, then at Finn, then at Bellamy. You look at them again. Again. Once more. You feel dizzy. Nauseated. You don't feel anything. 

“Clarke?” Someone calls. “Bell, take her back inside, I'm taking this one outside.”

You feel warm hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back inside your apartment, you assume, you’re not sure.

”Don't touch her!”

”Calm down, Finn!”

“Clarke, please! I just want to talk. I miss you. I love you.” His voice fades until the muffled sounds of struggle vanishes behind a door slamming shut. 

You don't feel anything.

You don't feel.

You don't.

You…

__________

#### LEXA

Sitting on the edge of Clarke's bed, you watch her sleep. She looks peaceful, but you know she isn't. Behind those closed eyelids, there's bound to be havoc in the making. Bellamy said, that Clarke passed out once you took Finn outside. She came to shortly, but due to her exhaustion she’s been out cold ever since.

You haven't slept at all; you can't because your mind is racing, your own kind of havoc. You sit here on the edge of her bed, head heavy in your hands, while Bellamy has taken the couch. You told him he could go home, but he insisted on staying in case any of you needed him.

You need Clarke to be okay.

You need sleep. 

In that order. 

It's been two hours since the cops picked up Finn. He refused to calm down, so you had no choice but to call the cops. It's something you’re quite anxious about because you know Clarke doesn't want to involve the cops. You have absolutely no idea how she'll react once she finds out, but the truth is you would do it again.

What a mess. 

Being here was supposed keep Clarke safe, but you realize now that it won't ever happen as long as Finn won't let her go. It's a delicate matter. On one hand you want to be there for her at all times, but on the other hand you can't have him show up unannounced like that; not if Samuel is there. 

How would she react to you suggesting a restraining order?

How would _you_ react were she to run again – away from you? 

How would Samuel react? 

There's movement behind you and a sharp intake of air. You recognize the pain, the realization that it isn't a nightmare, but reality. As you shift to lay a hand on her back, she curls up around you, head tucked in by your thigh.

Her breathing grows shallow, her body shakes under your touch. Your heart is breaking because you don't know how to fix this. You don’t know how to make her feel better.

“Ssssch,” you hush. “It's okay. I'm here. You can go back to sleep.”

It pains you that you can only promise her this moment; that you're not able to keep those you love safe. 

_You love her._

There it is; that thing that complicates everything. It's too soon, but it's so clear in your mind. You’ve been afraid to admit it, but if you must be honest, you've loved her since the first time she called you a troublemaker. 

_Please, don't run again, Clarke._

(Sleep doesn't come easy.)

__________

#### BELLAMY

In your book, it's an unforgivable act to hit women. Not even if they hit you first. That's the standard you live by. Hitting assholes like Finn, however, is something you're perfectly fine with. If Lexa hadn't been there last night, you're pretty sure you'd have smacked him a couple of times, not only for taking a swing at you – that’s the least of it – but for hurting Clarke; to even things out a bit. 

Lexa left half an hour ago because Samuel needed her. She had that look in her eyes; the one you only recognize because it used to be you. Leaving Clarke is breaking her heart, just like it broke _your_ heart leaving _her_ alone after Costia died. The least you can do is help her out with Clarke, so you assured her you'd look out for her today, for as long as she needed you. 

It's a little past 10am when Clarke eventually wakes up and joins you on the couch. She looks terrible, but you were able to fix Lexa, so maybe you can fix Clarke too. You’re going to try, at least. 

“Where's Lexa?” She sounds as heartbroken as Lexa did when she left. 

“She's with Sam,” you explain. Even her little responsive nod is heartbreaking.

“Finn?”

“He refused to listen, he tried to hit Lexa too, so she had to call the cops to pick him up.”

She nods again, eyes sliding shut. She sighs defeatedly. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. 

“Don't. It's not your fault. He's the one to blame. I know you loved him once, but he's not that man anymore.”

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands cupping her face. The shake of her head breaks _your_ heart. “He's still in there,” she says, “I see it in his eyes. The problem is, he's more gone than present. I don't have it in me to punish him, Bellamy. He's been through enough.”

Her body trembles next to you, so you lay a gentle hand on her back. A subtle touch like this works on Lexa; maybe it'll work on Clarke too. 

“I don't want to run anymore, but I don't know how to make him go away.” She inhales sharply. “But I'm afraid I'll lose Lexa and Sam if I don't find a way. I don't know how to fix this…” is the last thing she says before breaking apart. 

To hell with subtle touches. This one needs to be held together, so you pull her into a tight hug, both your arms engulfing her, and you feel her tears soak through your shirt. You sit like that until the tremors and the sobbing subsides; her exhausted body leaning against you. 

“You don't have to do this alone, Clarke. Whatever you need, we're here. You just have to ask,” you tell her. She’s family now too. You’ll take care of her like you do the others. Whatever it takes.

“I think I need to talk to him,” she says. 

“Are you sure?” To you, it sounds like a really bad idea. He’s clearly unstable.

“No, but I don't want to live like this, so it's either running again or confronting him.”

“Like closure?”

She nods, sliding out of your hug. Her breath is still a little shaky as she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Would you…” She starts but stops again, a frown on her lips. 

“You can tell me,” you assure her. 

“I don't want to involve Lexa in this. Not more than she already is. If I set up a meeting with him, would you go with me?”

“Of course. I told you. Anything you need.”

You don't think this guy deserves it, but you understand that Clarke needs closure. At least, this way, you can make sure she's safe. It also means Clarke won't run again, and you’ll do everything you can to keep it this way. For Lexa. She's already in too deep; she'll be absolutely crushed if Clarke ran away. 

“Thank you for staying with me, Bellamy,” she says, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Anytime.”


	14. Fix/Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much love for all the comments you leave me. Please don't ever stop <3
> 
> Finn's POV was/is one of the risky decisions I made for this fic (considering that I know you guys love to hate him). I'm not painting him a good guy (!!), I'm just trying to create complex characters because I find it more realistic. Writing this story in a 2nd POV style was to be able to explore this. Yes, being on Clarke's side makes Finn a terrible person, but maybe the truth isn't so black and white, you know? Either way, you're entitled to your own opinions and I'm just really excited that my simple writing conjures up opinions in my readers. 
> 
> Your comments tell me you're somewhat torn about Clarke's thoughts and me bringing Finn's POV into the story. I love that it does because that's what I intended to do.   
> So once again. Thank you for keep reading. I do appreciate it. You guys make me a better writer.
> 
> This chapter was really hard for me to write. It triggered me so much that I had to take breaks from it. If it triggers you too, I'm sorry, it's not intentional. But we're taking this journey together, so you'll be alright <3
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, you'll know I posted a teaser yesterday.  
> Are you ready for Clarke to contront Finn?
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

A glass of water and a plate with a sandwich are placed in front of you. For a minute you forget where you are, all caught up in the whirlwind inside your mind, but the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder pulls you back to the physical world. Blinking a few times to force your eyes to focus, you recognize the table surface before you – the cheap white plastic, a contrast to Bellamy's fancy dark mahogany – as a piece of furniture in Octavia's kitchen. You curl one hand around the glass of water in an attempt of checking that, yes, your body does actually still function. Not more so, than you still feel utterly exhausted. The last time you were this sleep-deprived was the days that inevitably followed the call you received on Costia's fate. 

“Could you, maybe, close the curtains?” The sunlight reflecting off the table surface blinds you to the point that it feels like needles in your eyes. 

“Of course.” Octavia kills the horrendous light and returns to take a seat in front of you. “How is Clarke?” She then asks. 

You don't know. You haven't heard from her or Bellamy yet, but you haven't exactly contacted them either. It doesn't mean you don't care, that you aren't worried; it means you’re confused and troubled, that you need to untangle the mess inside your mind first. “She was asleep when I left,” is all you’re able to give Octavia. 

The little huff of air escaping Octavia's lungs is a clear sign of her frustration; you don't need to look at her to know. In fact, it's often how she responds when you retreat into yourself. You know she sometimes gets a little frustrated because Bellamy is better at fixing you than she is. All she wants to do is help, and she does in fact help, more than she gives herself credit for; she's really good with Samuel and you owe her something really big for looking out for him last night. You'll make sure she knows once this is over. 

“Did you get any sleep?” She then asks. 

“I… no.” 

“Lex…” Octavia is hurting on your behalf. Her empathy alongside her constant need to always tease everyone is a combination you’ve always found profoundly interesting. “Please, take the bed. I'm here when Sam wakes up again.”

Samuel.

The poor kid was pulled from his peaceful sleep in the middle of the night to be dropped off at Octavia's. According to Octavia he'd been a good kid. Easy. He'd had a glass of milk and they'd watched some cartoons before going back to sleep. It had all been fine until he woke up this morning having nightmares about a scary man chasing him. That's when Octavia had called you, and that's why you had to leave Clarke. It broke your heart. 

He asked about Clarke and it broke your heart all over again. 

He cried even harder when you told him he wouldn't see her today. It took what was left of your already shattered heart and absolutely crushed it; an unrecognizable pile of dust crumbled at your feet. How do you explain to a five-year-old the nature of such a complex matter? How do you explain to him that Clarke is broken, and you're broken because _she's_ broken and that he need not worry about any of it? How? 

You need Samuel to feel safe. 

You need Clarke to be okay. 

You need sleep. 

In that order. 

“I can't,” you tell her. 

“Lex–” She begins, but you interrupt her, because nothing she has to say can make you change your mind. 

“–I can't, O! I can't sleep feeling like this. I need to fix this first.” Panic boils in your lungs and you raise your voice a little, but it's not on purpose; it's what the lack of sleep and level of desperation does to you. 

“Well. Maybe it's not yours to fix, Lex!” Octavia raises her voice too. 

Her words echo within the walls of this kitchen; within the walls of your heart. You feel hollow. It's like Octavia's words pushed you off a ledge sending you into a never-ending free fall, uncontrollably hurling through the air. There’s absolutely nothing whatsoever to hold on to.

You won't accept it. If you can't fix this, if you can't do _anything_ , then what are going to do? Just sit back and wait for things to settle? Patiently stand by waiting for Finn to accept that Clarke doesn't want him here? What if he never does? What if Clarke runs again? 

You could potentially lose Clarke over this. You can't just sit back and let that happen. 

“Lexa. I'm not saying you should step back. I'm just saying that this is Clarke's battle and maybe all she needs from you is to give you comfort when she needs it.”

Your hand still clings to the glass of water in front of you; the sandwich is still untouched. Your thoughts can't keep up with Octavia, or maybe they’re stuck in the same loop. Either way, you get nowhere. 

“Like. We couldn't fix that Costia died, but we were there for you when you needed us,” she says softly. 

Everything Octavia says makes sense; everything she says is a load of crap. Your head is swimming, you're dizzy and nauseated. Your heart is thudding, heavy in your ribcage. Your body aches, all of it; skin, muscles, tissue, sinew, bones, your soul even. 

“I…”

No, you can't make sense of anything right now. 

“Lexa, please, take the bed. I'll come for you if he wakes up and needs you, okay? _Please._ ”

It's not you that nod in defeat. It's not you that need this sleep. It's your traitorous, inadequate body going up against your will. _You_ don't make the calls right now, obviously, so you let go and follow the orders. 

Staying upright on your own seems impossible at the moment, so Octavia helps you to bed. You’re humiliated and grateful all at once as you suddenly feel fabric against your cheek, your eyelids glued shut. It feels like the shortest amount of time – seconds, maybe – before you drift off to sleep. 

 

//

 

Your aching body protests as Samuel wakes you up; the warmth from the palm of his hand against your cheek is soothing as the light from the hallway stings your eyes. 

“Mama?” He whispers. 

“Sam,” is all you're able to say. 

You want to talk to him, ask him if he's alright, make sure he's okay, but all you're able to is weakly pull him in closer for a cuddle. He doesn't fight it, and you let his little yawn against your chest settle in your heart as a much needed calm during this godforsaken storm. 

“Tell Clarke to wear her Superman T-shirt,” he says. 

It sets off a stream of hot tears falling from your eyes and onto Octavia's pillow. Your emotions are on a rampage at the moment. Even if you tried you wouldn't be able to hold it back, so you let yourself break. You let yourself being comforted by a five-year-old, your own little superhero.

You've never felt this raw before. 

Stripped.

Undone. 

You’re without any kind of shield to defend yourself from all the guns that are mercilessly aimed at you. They all fire at you continuously, again and again, and you’re unable to do anything but lie there and absorb them into your flesh and mind – along with it, the pain, the damage, the fear. 

You don't understand why this hurts so much. Maybe losing Costia did that to you, made you more sensitive to losing again; even just the prospect of it.

You draw in a silent long breath of air, then you hold it in just long enough to be able to say, “I'll tell her, Sam.” 

 

//

 

You and Samuel go back home in the afternoon. You make him a hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows in it, and your heart sinks when he tells you that Clarke does it better. 

He misses her too. 

Hoping to ease it a little – perhaps, also to make time move faster – you put on Penguins Of Madagascar. It works. He relaxes into you, into the blankets wrapped around you; a tiny bubble of comfort that the both of you so desperately need right now. Admittedly, those stupid cartoon penguins remind you of Clarke and it brings you just enough comfort to be able to smile a little. 

Halfway through the movie, you hear the familiar sound of Bellamy coming home, the clicking sound of his expensive shoes against the hardwood floor in the hallway. It plants a seed of worry in you. Does it mean Clarke is okay or–? Surely, he would’ve called you if something happened, right?

“Clarke!” 

Samuel's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He squirms his way out of your blanket faster than lightning and all you can do is watch him stumble towards Clarke as she kneels to hug him. 

“Hey, Sam,” she says. 

The smile on Clarke's lips tells you she's excited to be here with you and Samuel, but the pain in her eyes tells a different story. You watch them interact, but you don't really hear what they say. There's this magnetic force pulling at you, yanking you onto your feet and into Clarke's arms. You cling to her, Samuel sandwiched between the two of you, and that's all that matters. Samuel and Clarke are both here. Safe. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you sense Bellamy disappearing back into the hallway. You owe him big for this, keeping Clarke safe for you.

 

//

 

“I’m going to talk to him.”

It's sometime past 9pm, Samuel is asleep and Clarke has been running soft fingers through your hair for a while now; you're nearly asleep yourself. Not many things compare to the blissful comfort of cuddling with Clarke in your bed after a long day. It takes you a while to register she said something, but when you do you open your eyes to look at her. There's something there in her eyes you can't explain, but it sends shivers down your spine, and not the good kind. 

“Who?” You ask. 

“Finn. I need to talk to him,” she elaborates, her eyes fixated on anything but your eyes. 

“Okay. Can I ask why?” You want to tell her it's a bad idea because he's unstable and clearly won't let her go, but you also know it's not a constructive way to go about this. You know she needs you to support her decisions, no matter what they are. 

“It's either that or running, Lexa. I don't want to run anymore.” She takes a sharp inhale of breath before finally meeting your eyes. 

You nod. Cautiously. You understand her reasons but that doesn't mean you have to like it. No matter what anyone says you'll never like the idea of Clarke being close enough for him to touch her. Never. 

“I asked Bellamy to go with me,” she says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I don't want to drag you and Sam into this, but I need someone there with me.”

“Clarke…” You hate that she's right. The more you’re pulled into this, the more you pull Samuel into it, too. Just because he feels something is wrong doesn't mean he understands it. Again, you're stuck between needing to keep Samuel and Clarke safe. Again, Bellamy saves the day. You're torn between being grateful for everything Bellamy does for you and feeling painfully inadequate because you need his help. 

She kisses you, gently, her warm lips bringing you back once again. It feels like she's telling you everything is going to be alright. 

This has always been your Achilles’ heel; the need to keep your loved ones safe and then beating yourself up over it when you're not able to. You couldn't keep your parents safe, you couldn't keep Costia safe. To keep both Clarke and Samuel safe you need Bellamy's help. 

“Okay,” you say. Defeated and broken. 

She kisses you once more before snuggling into you. You hold on to her until her breath grows slow and steady against your collarbone, you keep holding on to her until you drift off too.

__________

#### CLARKE

Tiny lips against your cheek pulls you out of your heavy sleep. It's not Lexa's, something you realize as you crack one eye open only to find her smiling softly at you, amusement on her lips. 

“Wake up, Clarke,” a tiny voice whispers. 

You shift slightly to find Samuel hovering over you, his dusty blue eyes and cute little freckles patiently waiting for you to respond. 

Your voice is hoarse, so you clear your throat. “Morning, Sam.”

“Me and uncle Bellamy made pancakes,” he says, the excitement in his voice no longer containable. 

“SuperPancakes?” Your eyes still feel heavy from yesterday's exhaustion as you raise a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Uh, yes!” He says, grinning as if he's been waiting all morning to share this with you. 

“SuperPancakes are the best. You're spoiling me, Sam,” you say, earning an even wider grin back. 

“Clarke? Did you hear about the angry pancake? He just flipped,” he says, a dramatic huff escaping his lips. 

He's got his jokester face on and it's a terrible, terrible joke, but the playful glint in his eyes is so adorable you can't help yourself. 

You snort. 

Samuel explodes with giggles and you laugh with him, letting it shine a light into the dark, hollow depths of your heart carved by Finn. Lexa is hiding her face in her pillow, but you don't need to see her to know she's grinning like an idiot. 

It's hard not to feel happy being woken up like this. It's hard not to want this to be an everyday thing. For a while you even forget about yesterday’s struggles and today's afternoon plans. Sitting down to talk to Finn is something you dread more than anything, but you know it needs to be done. You need closure. He does, too. Then, hopefully, he'll let you go, leave you alone, and you can finally move on with this new life of yours. 

For now, though, Samuel is already halfway off the bed, tugging on your hand to follow him. Lexa cups your cheek, making sure you stay in place long enough for her to steal a kiss before you drift away from her entirely.

“I'm sorry about the jokes,” she mumbles just loud enough for only you to hear it. 

“Don't be. He's a charmer. You could learn something,” you tease, receiving one of those _I'll show you charm later_ smirks in return. 

You kind of want _later_ to be _right now_. You wouldn't mind a couple of minutes alone with her, but Samuel is tugging a little harder on your hand, pulling at your heartstrings, so you really don't have a choice. Really, it's a privilege having both of them. 

 

//

 

Leaving Lexa's apartment is pretty damn hard. This pancake morning was all you needed to escape reality for a while, and you would've stayed if it wasn't for your plans to meet with Finn. 

You tell Bellamy to meet you at the park at 3pm, that you have one thing you need to do before meeting Finn. Then you hug Samuel goodbye, ruffle his hair and promise him you'll have pancakes with him again soon. 

The hardest obstacle, though, is Lexa saying goodbye over the threshold of the apartment door, her arm snaking around the small of your back, one hand cupping the nape of your neck to pull you in. Lexa's soft lips are by far the one thing that makes leaving a pretty damn hard thing to achieve. 

Her lips tell you they already miss you, that they want more than stolen kisses and subtle touches. They tell you to be careful, to be safe and to let her know how things go. They tell you she hates this situation, but she understands. They tell you all of those things without ever breaking the kiss, without even speaking a single word. 

“Punch,” is all she says, her voice small but warm and encouraging, softly pressing her fist against your abdomen. 

You kiss her one last time, drawing the strength you need to do this, before leaving her on her doorstep. 

 

//

 

You've got a couple of hours before meeting Finn. You spend most of it in front of a punching bag at Ark Gym. Lincoln helps you with the boxing gloves. He asks if you're okay, you tell him you will be. He nods gently and tells you he'll be at the front desk if you need anything. 

The truth is, you're sick to your gut. You spend endless minutes standing in front of the punching bag, one arm outstretched, your gloved fist gently pushing against it. With every intake of air you repeat Lexa's words in your mind. 

_”Punch.”_

_”It's anger, not fear.”_

_”Punch!”_

Every second that passes adds to the pain in your gut. It keeps adding up until you taste the bile at the back of your throat. The last time that happened was when you saw the photos of your injuries, shocked to realize Finn did that to you. You close your eyes attempting to keep out the flashes of that night. It doesn't work, the images are forever printed on the inside of your mind. 

The anxiety slowly creeps up on you. The fear of not being able to do this after all. The regret. The need to run away from feeling like this again. 

Running. 

No. 

Running means losing your new life. Your job. The band. Your friends. Lexa and Samuel. 

No. 

He ruined your life once. You won't let him do it again. 

So you punch. Again. And again. Every punch subtracts from the pile of hurt in your gut. Every punch brings forth the anger. You keep punching until your knuckles hurt, until your lungs are burning and your mind is clear. 

You're ready. 

 

//

 

Bellamy is already there when you reach your meeting point at the park. You chose this place because Finn already found you here once – no reason to give him the knowledge of more places where you hang out – and it's open and public, so him making a scene is less likely. 

Before you're able to say anything, Bellamy pulls you into a hug. As his arms wrap around your shoulders you realize you're shaking a little. You let him comfort you, his shirt smells of Lexa and Samuel – the same detergent. 

“So, what's the plan?” He asks, as you take a seat on the bench. He sits down next to you. 

“I told him to meet me by the ice cream man. I'll take him to a picnic table. I want to sit across from him, not next to him. And I need you to take a seat somewhere behind him so he doesn't see you. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Do you need me to interfere? Need a code?”

“No. I don't expect him to make a scene here, not if he's sober, but if he does, just come over and take a seat next to me?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.” 

Your body feels heavy, maybe too heavy to ever lift again, but you need to do this, so you push yourself off the bench. “He should be there by now. Just follow a couple minutes after?”

When Bellamy nods you turn around to begin the walk you've been dreading these past twenty-four hours. Around you, children are playing games and friends are having picnics in the grass. Inside you, there's a raging storm. Those two worlds don't match and it feels a little like an out of body experience as you turn around the corner to find Finn already having found a seat by a picnic table. His back is towards you, meaning he won't see Bellamy when he comes this way in a minute. You take a moment before walking his way. He's wearing that navy blue shirt you bought him and it feels like a punch to the gut seeing him in it. You have to remind yourself he's someone you don't know anymore. He cheated on Raven – well, the both of you – and he hit you. 

Kind Finn is a lie. Kind Finn is a lie. Kind Finn is a lie. 

You walk towards him, taking a deep breath for every other step until you’re only a few feet away. He's fiddling with his thumb ring, the one that left marks where he grabbed your upper arm so you couldn't run away. It takes all your strength, what little you have, to not turn around. 

He looks up at you as you take a seat in front of him. Those warm eyes are definitely Kind Finn's, so once again you have to remind yourself it's a lie. You rest your hands on the table in an attempt to act calm.

“Clarke,” he says, affection clear in his voice. “Thank you for seeing me, I–”

“–I'm not doing this for you, Finn,” you interrupt him. You watch a flicker of confusion in his eyes, a flicker of pain. “I came here to tell you we're done. I thought me leaving was obvious. You need to let go.”

The pain in his eyes is a full-blown, burning flame now. He’s not angry, just genuinely sad.

“But… no, please, Clarke. I'm better. I won't hurt you again. I'm in therapy,” he reaches out for your hands. 

“Finn, don't.” You pull your hands away before he can reach them. You're not strong enough to keep the insecurity out of your voice. It settles in the way your eyes drop to the table surface; you hate that they do. 

“I… Why?” He says, and you make the mistake of looking back up. “I love you,” he continues, as if you looking at him is the same as you forgiving him. 

“Finn,” you start, you wish it didn't have to come to this because you know it'll break his heart, but you see no other option. “I'm in love with someone else.”

“No,” he says, his eyes wide with fear. 

“Yes.” You fight to keep your eyes locked with his because you need him to understand it's the truth. 

He searches your eyes, and you can tell that a part of him understands you're not lying. It's in his eyes welling up and the way he starts fiddling with his thumb ring again. 

“Please, Clarke,” he begs. The first tear starts falling. 

“I’m sorry, Finn. I'm not the same Clarke anymore. You broke that Clarke. This one, right here? She can't love you,” you say, tears escaping your eyes now, too. It hurts like hell to tell him these things. “Go home, Finn. Please don't contact me again. Please don't contact Raven either.” 

“I need you,” he says, he’s pleading for another chance. 

“I'm sorry. Don't contact me again. I'll have to file for a restraining order if you do,” you say as you push yourself up to a standing position. It's something you really don't want to do, but you realize it might be necessary to keep him away. 

It’s the breaking sob of Kind Finn’s voice that has your heart clenching. You lock your eyes with Bellamy’s for strength, as you walk to leave Finn behind.

“That’s him?” Finn roars from behind you.

You watch Bellamy's eyes move to something behind you – Finn, you assume – and based on the angle, Finn must be standing up. Bellamy walks towards you and the only thing going through your mind is to intervene so they don't end up fighting. You turn around and just about catch Finn, your hands against his chest, before he storms by you. 

“Finn!” You yell to get his attention. 

“Is that him?” He says through clenched teeth, his eyes jumping between you and Bellamy. His nostrils flare and you know Angry Finn is just below the surface, that it won't take much before he takes over. 

You want to tell him it's none of his business, but you know you need to be cautious, so instead you say, “No, Finn. It's not him.” 

He relaxes against your palms. It's minuscule and most people would've missed it, but you've had plenty of time to practice reading him like this. It's those minuscule changes that reveal which version of Finn you're dealing with. 

You're about to drop your hands, letting him off the hook, when he tenses up again. 

“Is it the woman?” 

“Finn…” You say, because you don't know what the truth will do to him. 

“Clarke, please.” He looks at you with pleading eyes and something tells you he needs the truth, no matter how much it hurts. 

“Yes,” you confess. 

You watch him struggle with his thoughts, expecting him to explode any second now. It never happens. Instead, he gently wraps his hands around your wrists to pull them from his chest and to your sides. Then he lets go. He nods, taking a sharp inhale. 

“She’ll take care of you they way I couldn't,” he says. Crestfallen. Broken. He sniffles once before saying, “I'm sorry, Clarke. I’ll let you go.”

He drops his head, his tears land on the ground between his feet like angry raindrops. He doesn't look up as he turns around to go back to the picnic table. 

You watch him sit back down, his hunched shoulders shaking. You can't see it, but you know he's fiddling with his thumb ring again. For some reason it always brought him comfort, and a part of you wants to go back over and wrap your arms around him, to comfort him, but he's not the same Finn and you’re not the same Clarke, so you stay put. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asks, a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

You give him the same answer you gave Lincoln earlier. “I will be.”

“Ready to go?”

“I don't know,” you say, truthfully, because something feels awfully wrong about leaving Finn like this. 

“You don't like to leave him like this,” he states. He sounds like he's been there before, too; struggling with the knowledge that you're able to help someone get better but it means you have to compromise yourself. 

You feel physically numb while your emotions run wild in your mind. “I just wish there's something I could do.”

“You can't,” he tells you. “He won't be able to let you go, then.”

“I know.” 

Bellamy snakes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you around to walk back where you came from. His gaze is unfocused, as if he's thinking really hard about something. 

“What?” You ask him. 

“Well, If I knew a way to help him, would you allow me to try?”

“How?” You ask, not sure if you like this or not. 

“I can't share the details. I’ll keep it away from you and Raven. Lexa and Sam, too. I just… I think I can help him…” He looks over his shoulder, back at Finn. 

You keep your eyes on Bellamy, watching how he, too, wishes they didn't have to leave Finn like this. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?” He looks back at you. 

“Yes. If you can help him and still keep him away from us, I’m saying yes.” 

“Okay. Meet me by the entrance? I'll be right behind you,” he says as he walks back towards Finn. 

You do as he says, because it's all you're able to do, still consumed by too many emotions to deal with any of them right now.

__________

#### FINN

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.

Again.

And again. 

What the hell are you going to do now? The light in your dark has been blown out, diminished to no longer exist. You hate that you let yourself believe you could convince her to give you another chance. You hate yourself for buying that apartment here before talking to her. 

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. 

You knew it when she told you, you broke her. You knew then that your chance has long passed, that no matter how much you’re willing to fight for her, she has given up on you entirely. 

A part of you already admitted that it's your own damn fault. You should’ve just gone to therapy after the first time you hit her. Hell, you should've probably done it a lot sooner than that. 

You broke her. 

In return, she broke you. No, you broke yourself. This is entirely your own damn fault. 

It's lost. Gone. You have nothing left. 

There's no light in your dark. 

“Finn?” 

You look up, to see that guy Clarke was with taking a seat in front of you. 

“Go away,” you bite. You don't need anyone to rub it in your face. Certainly not him. 

“Listen. I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I might be able to help you,” he says. 

“I don't need your help,” you dismiss him. You had one thing left to fight for and that's gone now. You just want to be alone. 

“I know. But I volunteer at a veteran’s center a couple of times a month. No one knows about it, not Clarke, not Raven, not Lexa. If you want to come check it out, I’ll show you around. It'll have to be between you and me, though.”

He slips a card in front of you. You stare at it through your blurred eyes. Bellamy Blake. 

“Lexa. Is that…” You can't say it out loud. 

“Yes,” he says. No hesitation. He's not pitying you, you like that. “They're good together. Lexa lost her wife to the war and Clarke is the first person in two years to make her move on.”

You nod. You understand the meaning of that; having someone be your light in the dark. 

“Think about it. Call me, anytime.” 

You keep staring at the card as he gets up and leaves you behind again. You get up too, putting the card in your pocket, before walking back to your apartment. 

Where do you go from here?


	15. Where Do We Go From Here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you!  
> I know I'm repeating myself, but I love how invested you all are in this story. Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3
> 
> This one picks up after Clarke left Finn at the park. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### CLARKE

Eyes pulled downwards, you trudge along the sidewalk towards Octavia's house. Hands in your jean pockets, you nervously pick at the lint there as you try to control your breathing. You're torn between needing to be alone and needing people around you. With each passing crack that separates cement sidewalk blocks, you change your mind again. Again and again. You don't know what you want. You need _something_ , you just can't pinpoint what it is. 

As you pass the dingy corner pub with noisy, old, drunk men out front, you even hesitate to continue at all. Maybe they have vodka to drown out the numbness. If you're lucky it erases the pain, too. It sounds pretty damn appealing right now, actually. 

Your eyes search your surroundings for no particular reason except maybe for a sign to point you in the right direction. There's a poster half torn off the building wall, and while you can't see the whole poster, you clearly see the middle aged man in a tuxedo on it. It reminds you of penguins, they remind you of Samuel, and Samuel reminds you of Lexa. 

The reaction is immediate, the thought of passing out on vodka makes your stomach churn, so you pick up trudging, still picking at the lint in your pockets, still carrying that heavy load of regret, relief and heartbreak. 

You trudge on, staring down all the cracks between the cement blocks as if you were counting them, but honestly, it could be a hundred or a million even, you don't know. You don't care. There's always the next new crack between the blocks, so you keep on trudging. 

If it weren't for Monty calling you out, you would've probably passed Octavia's house in the process. 

“Hey, Clarke.”

“Oh. Hey, Monty.” Even the sound of your own voice depresses you. 

“You okay?” He asks, his soft eyes pleading for you to let him cheer you up.

You realize that Monty might not know anything about what's going on with Finn, and although you really don't want to talk about it, you also feel guilty about him being the only one left in the dark. 

“Did the others tell you about Finn?”

“Rae filled me in. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you say. You're actually relieved she did. It means you don't have to explain it all once again. 

You let him guide you through Octavia's front door and into the basement – the studio – as you give him the latest update. “I went to talk to him today,” you say, as you take a seat on the couch. Monty looks at you with concern, not the pitying kind, but the if you need me I'm here kind. He takes a seat next to you and you continue. “I needed to officially tell him it's over. I thought maybe he needed to hear it too.” 

“Did it work, you think?” He asks, propping his feet onto the coffee table. 

“I don't know. Maybe. It broke his heart. He says therapy changed him, but I don't know…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, you're restless and a little anxious because you still haven't had a chance to process the meeting at the park yet. 

“Well, if he comes back, let me know and I'll kick his ass,” Monty says, part sincere, part joking. 

“Sure,” you chuckle. It's funny because Monty is a small, tiny thing and you know from experience how strong Finn is, even though he might not look like it. 

“I know karate,” he says, lifting his hands and one leg into a Karate Kid wannabe stance, still comfortably laid back on the couch. Not at all intimidating. Just… Cute and very Monty-esque.

“No, you don't,” you smile. 

“He doesn't know that,” he shrugs. 

It makes you laugh. It's spontaneous and it warms up your body. This is why you love Monty. He doesn't even try hard, but still, he brings this casual calm wherever he goes. You really need that right now. 

“But you're okay?” He asks, a hundred percent sincere now. 

“Yeah. Yes. I will be.” It's the third time you say that today, and you're still not entirely sure it's the truth, but you need the hope like you need the air you breathe, so you allow yourself to throw in a reassuring smile with those words. 

You and Monty share a bit of silence together, it feels nice to just be; it doesn't happen often enough. Monty has a lot on his plate all the time, so it's mostly Raven and Octavia you hang out with, and those two are the exact opposite of silence. Especially when they're together. 

As if on cue, they both enter the studio. 

“‘Sup,” Octavia greets you, popping the p. 

She takes a seat next to you while Raven throws herself onto the floor in the middle of the room. 

“Where's Linc?” Monty asks. 

“He's running late, but he's bringing food as an apology,” Octavia grins. 

“Acceptable,” Monty nods. 

They keep talking about food and random stuff you can't concentrate on right now, so you slide off the couch to lie down next to Raven. She’s unusually quiet today, so you figure the two of you can be quiet together, then. 

“Hey,” you whisper, your head only a few inches from hers. 

“Hey,” she whispers back, her eyes glued to the ceiling although they seem to not focus on anything. 

“I'm sorry,” you tell her because you feel guilty for Finn breaking off their engagement even though you know it's entirely his own doing; his choice. 

“It's not your fault,” she says. She blinks a few times before turning her head to look at you.

“I know,” you sigh. “I'm still sorry, though.”

“Me too,” she says. “Every time I feel sorry for myself I remember what he did to you, and it makes me angry instead. It's like I never knew him.”

“Yeah…” You want to say a lot of things, but a knot forms in your throat. Instead, you look at the ceiling hoping Raven doesn't see the tears welling up. 

“I heard he showed up again,” she says. 

You nod, you try to swallow the knot in your throat. 

“I'm sorry,” she says, her voice laced with a careful smile. 

“Don't be. It's not your fault,” you repeat her words, looking back at her, the smallest of smiles on your lips, too. 

“I heard Lexa kicked his ass.”

“Did O tell you that?”

“Who else?”

“He refused to calm down so she called the cops to pick him up. That's it. No ass-kicking.”

“Mh… Yeah, I'm gonna go with O’s version,” Raven smiles and it makes you chuckle. 

It doesn't last long because you realize Raven doesn't know the rest of the story. 

“I went to talk to him today.”

“What? Why?” Raven is back to being angry and you aren't sure why. 

“I almost ran away again. But I couldn't because I have a life here I really like. I didn't want him to ruin my life again, and I realized I never told him what he did to me. I never got to yell at him for that. I needed closure. And I needed to tell him I'd file for a restraining order if he were to contact me again.” 

“Shit…” Raven says, no longer angry. “For a second there I thought you were going to go back to him.”

Well, that explains the anger. 

“I don't want anything to do with him. I just… It broke his heart, and I don't like watching him hurt so much,” you say. 

“I know,” Raven says. 

“I had to tell him I was in love with someone else,” you confess, barely a whisper. It was the hardest thing you've ever had to do; deliberately breaking someone else's heart for your own benefit. You seek comfort in Raven’s eyes. You assume she knows all about Finn's fragile heart, the way betrayal manifests in his mind like nightmares; the way he needs extra comfort to deal with his troubles. 

“Did you lie?”

“No.” You don't even hesitate. 

“Does she know?”

“Not yet. I mean, it's too soon for that, right?”

“Says who?” Raven smiles at you. 

You respond by casting your own little blushing smile towards the ceiling. No matter how hard you try, you can't keep out the images of Lexa's smirky smile and green eyes. You can't help the memories of her warm body against yours, the comforting whispers in your ear and the soft kisses against your lips. 

“Oh, you got it bad, Clarke,” Raven teases. 

“Yeah…” you sigh. “So, how about you, Rae? How are you holding up?”

“I'm still angry at him,” she says. “But I'm done letting him ruin my life too.”

“Good,” you say. That's all you can do. You understand the meaning of those words. You understand that she knows, that it takes more than a few days to get on top of something like this. You know it too. 

“Lexa taught me the beauty of hitting things to get the anger out. You should join me the next time,” you offer. 

“I might,” she chuckles. 

 

//

 

_”Hey.”_

The sound of her voice makes your heart ache with longing. It aches because you need to find yourself in all of this mess, and you need time alone to do that. It aches because you need her to tell you everything is going to be alright. It aches because you miss the comfort of her touch. 

It aches because you know she aches too. 

“Hey,” you reply. 

Your bed feels empty without her here. The sheets were all crumbled uo when you came home, reminding you of the horrible night when Finn showed up, the night when you hid between the bed and the wall to keep quiet, and the morning after when Lexa stayed awake to keep an eye on you. 

If you close your eyes you can almost feel her next to you. Almost. It's not enough. 

_”Are you okay?”_

“I will be.” It's the fourth time you say that today. It still tastes like a lie. 

_”Anything I can do?”_

Make the pain go away. That's what you want her to do, but you know she can't. Instead, you opt for a lighter version because you need a distraction. 

“Stay out of trouble, Commander.” 

Yes. Her chuckle, soft as silk, was exactly what you needed to hear. It pulls at your lips and for the first time since you left her apartment this morning, you feel alright again. It's good enough, for now, even if it's only temporary 

_“I'll try, but no promises. See, I have this gorgeous girlfriend who brings trouble in the best of ways and I have a really hard time saying no to her.”_

“Are you doing that half smile I love?” You ask her. 

_“Yes.”_

“I know. I can hear it in your voice,” you tell her. It's true. Her voice has this playful, flirty edge when she smiles that way. It's just perfect. Behind your closed eyelids, her half smile grows to a wide grin, the one she sports every time she succeeds in making you smile. 

Yeah, she made you smile. Despite all odds, you feel it, the tugs at the corner of your lips. 

It's refreshing. 

_“Are you doing that thoughtful lip bite I love?”_

It's not intentional, but yes, you are. 

“How did you know?”

_“I can hear you thinking through the phone.”_

This is it. This is actually why you called her. You promised her an update on your talk with Finn. She'd never admit it, but you know she's been anxious all day. Lexa needs her people to feel safe. If they're not safe, she isn't safe. You know it pains her that she can't fix this thing for you. She never told you, but it's so obvious she doesn't have to. It's the way she ran to you in the middle of the night to help you get rid of Finn, and it's how she looked out for you, staying awake while you slept. It's in the way she continually fights to keep a balance between you and Samuel. 

_“Clarke?”_

“Mh?”

_“Where did you just go? Talk to me.”_

“I’m sorry I didn't call you sooner, I was at O’s,” you say. It’s not at all what you want to tell her, or what she needs to hear, but your mess of a mind needs to be eased into it. 

_“Clarke, don't worry about it. If you need time, take it. I’ll still be here when you're ready, okay? I'm not going anywhere.”_

“Thank you,” you say. She deserves _something_. The thing is, it grows in your lungs and gets more uncomfortable by the minute. You need to tell her. You know you do. 

“He…” The first word barely escapes your lips before you start shaking. 

_“It's okay, Clarke. You don't have to–”_

“–No, I want to. I need to,” you interrupt her. The only thing you hear after that is her breathing against your ear mixed with the sound of cars in the distance. You hold your breath, and the thudding of your heart mutes out everything else.

“I broke his heart.” Saying it out loud hurts more than the ache in your heart and the stinging in your eyes. 

“I let him go a long time ago, but it still felt like a break-up because he never let go of me,” you say. You hate how fragile your voice sounds, how the tears burn your skin. You hate that Finn is still able to break your heart.  
Lexa keeps breathing, she gives you the time you need to finish what you started. 

“I told him about you, my feelings for you. I knew it would break him, but I needed him to understand that–” 

Something clenches inside your chest. It squeezes at your lungs so you can't draw in air. It claws at your heart and you didn't think it could hurt anymore than it already did, but it does. It hurts like hell. Worse than hell.

_“Clarke?”_

The panic in Lexa's voice brings you back. “I'm s-sorry, I'm okay,” you stutter. 

_“I wish I was there with you.”_

The shaky breath in your ear tells you this hurts her too. 

“I'm okay, Lexa. I think… I think I need to go through this. I hate it, but I need it.” As soon as the words are out, a calm washes over you. It's like you've finally accepted this situation you're in. As if you only just realized that you're back in control. 

_“Want me to sing for you?”_

It seems the calm has reached Lexa too. 

“You want to sing for me?”

“Yes, if you want. Sometimes, when Sam is sad, there's this song we sing and it makes him feel better.”

There's that playful tone in her voice again. It's not flirty, just genuinely soft and caring. You wonder if she actually _can sing_ , so you say, “okay, I'm listening.”

She clears her throat, forcefully, on purpose, and it makes you smile. You feel kind of silly, not quite knowing what to expect.

_“You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me.“_

Lexa is a terrible singer. She can't hold a tune, but the playful smile is clear in her voice, and you can't help the laughter that spills from your lips. “Is that Toy Story?” You ask her, but she ignores you and continue. 

_When the road looks rough ahead. And you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed.”_

She sings in a hushed voice – as to not wake up Samuel, you assume – but she still manages to sing with an uncalled for vigor. You picture her not being able to sit still, pacing around in her living room. 

_You just remember what your old pal said. Boy, you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me.”_

Her voice is still present in your mind after she stops singing. She might be a terrible singer, but she's an adorable idiot. She's _your_ adorable idiot. 

_“Did it make you feel better?”_

You can hear that half smirk dancing on her lips again. Yes, damn it, she made you feel better. 

“Much,” you chuckle. “But I hate to break it to you, Lex, you're a terrible singer.”

_“I know, but Sam doesn't care.”_

Her words settle around your heart, an impenetrable coating that pulsates in a steady rhythm, and with every impulse it mends another tiny crack in your heart. 

“Thank you,” you say, still reveling in the warmth running through your veins. Again, it amazes you how easy it is for Lexa to make you feel safe. 

_“You're welcome.”_

Her low chuckle adds to the longing in your heart. 

“I miss you,” you confess. 

_”I miss you too.”_

Hanging up is not an easy task – not for Lexa either. You tell her you need a little time to get your head straight, but it won't keep you from Kids Gym on Tuesday. She tells you, that you don't have to, that you should take all the time you need and that Samuel will understand. You tell her, in a playful scold, to please be kind and shut up, and you earn your favorite chuckle in return. She insists you hang up and go to bed, because you must be tired and you have work in the morning. You tell her she's probably right, that you promise to text her tomorrow, and then you hang up, reluctantly. 

The silence buzzes around you, but you still hear the thudding of your heart mixed with cars in the distance. 

Sighing, you roll over and nuzzle you head into your pillow pretending it smells of Lexa. 

It's the best you can do right now. 

You do eventually fall asleep.

__________

#### LEXA

Monday is the longest day of your life. You're supposed to be calm and level-headed at work, inspiring your employees to want to be great at what they do, but all you do is fuss around restlessly. You're terrible at hiding it, too. Lincoln and Gustus are on their best behavior, as if you'd explode if they were to call you Troublemaker just once. You probably would. 

Lincoln insists that you join him in the office. You know what he's doing: damage control. Locking yourself up – away from everyone's prying eyes – does actually sound appealing, but the thing is, you can't sit still. Being confined to minimal space within those four walls sounds like a really bad idea. Before you get the chance to decline, he puts his big, warm hands on your shoulders and tells you to get your ass in there, that he'll be right behind you. He spins you around, gives you a push towards the office, you let your body carry you, sulking all the way. 

Inside the office, you take a seat by the desk, kicking at the table leg like a moody kid – not hard enough to break it, just enough to make a statement. 

“Anything I can do?” He asks, taking a seat next to you as he hands you a sandwich.

An irritable sigh jumps from your lips, and you wish you could take it back, because Lincoln doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of your terrible mood. It's not his fault. It's no one's fault. It's just how it is. 

He takes a bite of his sandwich. You know it's his way of letting you know he's here if you need him. No pressure. 

“I don't know what to do,” you confess. Saying it out loud makes it more real; it feels like failure. 

“About what?” 

“Clarke,” you say, as if it explains everything. You think it does, but Lincoln's questioning eyes tell you he doesn't. 

“I need more context.” He takes another bite of his sandwich. 

Putting the unwrapped sandwich on the desk, you sigh again – this time because you feel helpless.

“She says she needs time. You know me, Linc. I, of all people, actually get that. I just… I hate that I can't do anything to help her,” you say. 

It's like when Costia was overseas; all you could do was wait, hoping she'd come back to you in one piece. Lincoln knows this about you. While Bellamy always picks you up when you hit rock-bottom, Lincoln has a rare talent for catching you mid-air before you actually hit the ground.

“She lights up when she talks about you, did you know that?” Lincoln says, nudging your knee with his. 

You nudge him back. It's the same as saying, _’go on, I'm listening.’_

“My point is, your existence alone is more than enough. She knows you're there if she needs you. She _trusts_ you. You’re already helping her.” 

He takes another bite of his sandwich, and while he chews – super slow on purpose, you suspect – you digest his words. He's right, though. While you might consider just being at Clarke's service when and if she needs you a passive behavior, she might not see it that way. In fact, based on your own experiences, that kind of passive behavior is the most valuable thing in the world when everything is a mess and you're a stubborn soul. The need to be self-sufficient and independent is something you and Clarke share. Having someone ready to catch you when you fail in your attempt is important. 

“Am I right?” Lincoln asks, his cautious, warm eyes seeking yours. 

“Yes,” you sigh. “I know you're right.”

He’s halfway through his sandwich and you still haven't touched yours. When your eyes slide upwards to stare at the ceiling – something you do when you try to keep your emotions under control – he nudges your knee again. 

“I get it, Linc. It still sucks, though.” You nudge him back, still staring at the ceiling. 

“Eat your sandwich and meet me by the treadmills in an hour,” he says, rising from his chair. 

“Thank you,” you call after him as he leaves the office. 

”Treadmills. One hour,” he calls back. 

 

//

 

When Clarke enters the gym on Tuesday afternoon, a godawful weight is lifted off your shoulders. Admittedly, you had your doubts that she'd show up, which is why you didn't tell Samuel. It's not that you don't trust her, it's just that you can't handle the disappointment of expecting her here and then not have her show up because she isn't ready after all. 

No expectation, no room for disappointment. 

The thing is, you'd understand if she didn't show up. In fact, you're kind of proud to see her here. It’s a good sign, it means she isn't stuck inside her head while coping with the Finn drama. 

“Give me two minutes.” You tell Lincoln as you walk past him towards Clarke. 

She looks good. Tired, but good. Her smile is subtle but genuine, and it grows into those dimples you love as the distance between you decreases. 

“Hey,” you say, pulling her into a hug. You savor the way she melts into you, her chin on your shoulder, her arms snaking around your waist. “It's good to see you.”

“Yeah, me too,” she agrees, tightening her arms around you a little bit more. 

“I can't kiss you in front of everyone, just know that I really want to,” you sigh, and it earns you the response you were hoping for as she chuckles. 

“Yeah, me too,” she repeats. 

She presses her lips gently against your shoulder. It's discreet and not at all enough to fill the void that missing her seems to leave in your body. For a split second you consider if you could get away with sneaking off to the privacy of your office. You know it's not an option – at least not right now – but you still get disappointed by the missed opportunity when Samuel’s voice reveals his presence. 

“Clarke!” He squeals. 

Clarke gives you one last squeeze, and as she lets go of you, she winks at you with promises of more moments like these later. It leaves you paralyzed in the middle of your gym – your home turf – feeling like an utter moron due to your rapidly beating heart and the jittery joy pulsating with every beat. All you're able to do is stand there and watch Clarke catch Samuel in a hug. 

It hits you like lightning from a clear sky. 

It's in his excitement every time he sees Clarke, the way he laughs when she ruffles his hair, their camaraderie of Superman nostalgia and terrible jokes over pancakes. 

It's the way he gently woke her up with a kiss to her cheek the other day, and the way Clarke seems to comfortably accept that you and Samuel are a package deal. 

It's the way she _wants_ you as a package deal. 

It's the way you – all of you, body, mind and soul – feel awfully at ease in their periphery, no, in the _center_ of it all. 

It's the way it feels familiar and homely. 

You, Samuel and Clarke; you're a unity. 

Clarke fits into this like Costia did. Just like Costia, yet in a different way. 

It hits you like lightning from a clear sky.

You love Clarke. You're _in love_ with Clarke. It's not the first time you’ve had this thought, but it's the first time you've accepted it. 

It's in the way you stand there helplessly stuck in a state of blissful awe as Lincoln walks by you _only_ to whisper, “Be careful with them heart eyes, Troublemaker. We don't want to scare the kids.”

It's in the way you blush and how Clarke winks at you when you fail to hide it. 

It's in the way you have to swallow hard before you're able to breathe again. 

 

//

 

Closing the bedroom door behind you, your eyes search for Clarke's by pure instinct. It's similar to the way your eyes always search for Samuel when he wanders a bit too far away in public places. While Clarke tries her best to hide her emotions, her eyes never lie – not to you. 

The tiny lamp on your nightstand is the only source of light, but it's enough to see that Clarke has stolen your pillow. You consider how best to steal it back, but the truth is, you don't have the heart to deny her your pillow if it makes her feel better. Instead, you slide in behind her, gently wrapping your arm around her waist. Your head finds a tiny corner of your pillow and she shifts to melt further into you. 

“Lexa?”

“Mh, yeah?”

“I'm okay,” she says, as if she can read your mind and knows exactly how much you worry about her. Too much, some would say. To you there's no such thing. 

You press your lips against her hair in a response. 

“Thank you,” she then says. 

“For what?”

“For making me feel safe.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

You press a kiss against her shoulder. She entwines your fingers under the covers, giving your hand a little squeeze, and it’s one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had. 

It wasn't like this with Costia. You were friends before anything. Good friends turning great friends turning lovers. You felt comfortable and at home with Costia and it was intimate and safe in its own way. 

While it feels like you've known Clarke for a long time, you need to remind yourself it's only been about a month. It's surreal because the connection you share with her is just as strong as it was with Costia – if not stronger. As great as it feels, it also terrifies you. The big difference between Costia and Clarke is that with Clarke it feels a little like losing control – in the best of ways, yes, but not without risk. 

Maybe it'll ease your mind if you try to gain back a little of that control. 

“Clarke?”

“Mh?”

“Let me take you on a date.” 

“A date?”

“Yes. These past weeks have been a little crazy and I think we both could use a night off.” What you don't tell her is that you want to take her on a date because you need to take a step back and do this right. You need to connect with her through the aspects of dating, before connecting through the harsh aspects of life. 

“I'd like that,” she says, her voice thick with the smile you know is there but can't see. 

“Saturday?”

“That works,” she says, shifting in your arms to face you. “So, where are you taking me.”

“I’ll let you know in due time, just, be prepared to be wooed,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“Okay, Troublemaker,” she chuckles. “I'm looking forward to it.”

She leans in closer, her lips against your collarbone, and you wrap your arm around her waist. She sighs, her breath warm and moist against your skin, while her hand finds your waist. It's impossible not to smile as you realize you already know what's going to happen. Clarke’s hand finds its way under the elastic band of your boy shorts to rest against its new favorite spot: your buttcheek. She's done it a handful of times already, and you can't deny that you kind of like it. 

She tugs you closer, your bodies melting into each other. It's not sexual, well, not on purpose. You know it's entirely about being as close as possible. The intimacy. She craves it as much as you. 

“I'm not a piece of meat, Clarke,” you sigh, smiling into the night. 

Her response is a squeeze of her hand and a tired, mumbled, “yes, you are.”

You reach out to turn off the light, careful not to disturb Clarke. “Goodnight, Clarke,” you murmur against the top of her head. 

“Night,” she mumbles. By the sound of it she's already a half asleep.


	16. Give Me A Heart Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you.  
> I know some of you are looking forward to their date. I split it in two chapters. You'll experience the first part through Clarke's POV and the second part through Lexa's POV. Other than that, I won't say much else.
> 
> Let me know what you think <3
> 
> Enjoy! ;)  
> ~anonbeme

#### CLARKE

Patience is a virtue: a favorite saying of your dad's. You were never good at waiting for things you really, really wanted. You're more of the making-things-happen type. That's why you’re currently waiting outside your apartment building for Lexa to pick you up; because the excitement grew unbearable, and it made you a bit claustrophobic inside your small apartment. It doesn't make time move faster, though, and you hear your dad's voice in the back of your mind: Patience is a virtue. 

Lexa said to dress _casually you_ , to be ready at 6pm and to be prepared to stay outdoors most of the night. Other than that, she downright refused to reveal anything. You offered to send her another cleavage selfie for more details and she told you to stop ruining her good girl image. It made you laugh and then it made you miss her even more. Lexa and her playful half smile. And her kisses.

That was three days ago. Wednesday. Missing Lexa has inevitably grown more persistent since then. 

There's a waist-high brick wall leading from the front door to the sidewalk. It works as a seating platform while you're waiting, your legs dangling, the heels of your white converse gently bumping against yellow bricks. You have no idea what _casually you_ means, but you felt like wearing your favorite summer dress – sleeveless, just above knee length, loose from the waist down – and the converse to make it casual. 

It's the first Saturday of September, the air is surprisingly warm and mild. You close your eyes and throw your head back to let the sun warm your cheeks. For a minute there are no bad things in the world, no Finn, no pain. It's just you, waiting for Lexa to pick you up and take you on a date. It makes you feel light and warm. Happy. 

You hear Lexa's car pull over, a car door slamming shut, and you let her walk up to you without opening your eyes. 

“Mh,” Lexa hums. 

Nothing more than that, just an appreciative hum. Your guess is she's standing a few feet away, and you wonder if she's going to keep standing there or walk up to you anytime soon. 

Nothing happens.

You open your eyes to find her looking at you with a raised eyebrow, a cocky smirk on her lips, hands tucked into her pockets. You give her your most innocent smile, but you know that _she_ knows, that there's nothing innocent about it at all. 

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She says. 

“I don't know what you mean,” you say. It's a lie. You chose this dress because you know Lexa has a thing for dresses, and you may or may not have had a fantasy or two about finding out what that implies. 

“Clarke,” she says, a playful accusation. Clicking her tongue, she walks the last few steps towards you. Shamelessly, she looks you up and down before resting her hands on your thighs, on top of your dress. She leans into you, settles between your legs, her lips barely an inch from yours. 

“Lying doesn't suit you. This dress, however…” She says, her voice a husky low, as she slides her hands up your thighs, just an inch, pulling the fabric of your dress with her. Just an inch, barely nothing, but it's more than enough to make your heart race. 

Your response is a cocky smirk of your own and a hooked finger around her suspenders, pulling slightly, then letting go – a teasing little snap. She's wearing her boyfriend jeans, a loose white shirt and those damn suspenders. 

She chuckles, then, a softness overtaking her features. One of her hands cups your jaw, a thumb brushing against your cheek, and you feel yourself softening under her touch. There's no way to tell who closes the distance, but kissing her feels like fireworks, so you don't really care. 

“Hey,” she murmurs. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” you say, a little overpowered by the intimacy of the moment. 

“Are you ready?” 

“I am.” 

Taking a step back, she offers you a hand to help you get off the brick wall. You let her guide you to her car where she opens the car door for you. 

“That's a first,” you tease her. 

“I am wooing you today, Clarke,” she says matter-of-factly, her half smile in place. 

“Oh really,” you shake your head, your cheeks already hurting from smiling too much. 

“Really,” she says, closing your car door for you. 

 

//

 

Polis Music Festival starts today, something you only remember as Lexa guides you towards the area of town that makes up the festival ground. The festival ends next Sunday – it gives nine days of music events around town – and _The Fever_ is playing on the main outdoor stage on Friday evening. Just being here right now makes you all excited for the upcoming concert. 

“I realized you haven't experienced this festival before,” Lexa says, as she guides you around a corner and into a charming plaza you haven't been to before. 

There's a small stage in one corner, a band getting ready to play. By the looks of it, it could be a jazz ensemble – not many genres use a double bass and a saxophone. The crowd isn't big, but it's enough to create an atmosphere; of joy, of anticipation, of a good time. Colorful light chains light up the area, and there is a vast selection of food trucks around its edges. 

Lexa squeezes your hand, so you look at her.

“Is this okay?” She asks. 

“It's perfect,” you grin. It is. It's more than perfect. This is exactly what you need: a good time, good food, good music and good company. 

“I know nothing about music, but O said you might like this band and if you don't, there are bars with more music just around the corner.”

“I think O might be right,” you tell her. If your gut feeling is right, it's your dad's kind of music: jazz, swing, the standards. “Now what, Troublemaker. What's the plan?”

“Food,” she says, nodding determinedly. “Pick one.” 

You take a look around the square, there are about a dozen food trucks, each one selling food from a different corner of the world, and you realize you kind of want to taste it all. It's a weakness of yours, good food makes you indecisive and a bit of a pig. 

“Need another recommendation?” Lexa chuckles as she uses a soft thumb to release the lip you’ve been biting. She refers to your first visit at the diner across the gym where you asked her to recommend a dish. 

“I think that's probably for the best,” you sigh.

She grins at you before pulling you with her. “Okay, the taco truck is my favorite, so let's start there,” she says. 

The thing is, once you taste their tacos, you’re addicted. As much as you want to taste food from the other trucks, you kind of just want more of these delicious things. You're having a great time. You’ve found a seat by a table with a good view of the stage, and you were right about the music. 

“What are you thinking?” Lexa asks. 

“My dad loved this kind of music,” you tell her. He liked the happy, dreamy kind of jazz, and you remember all the times he swung a very young version of you around the living room listening to his favorite tunes. 

“Oh. Is it…” She hesitates. You know why. 

“I miss him a lot, especially listening to this kind of music, but it's the good kind. It reminds me that I still have the memories,” you reassure her. It's true. The first couple of months you couldn't listen to his jazz songs without crying like a baby, but now they're what you turn to when you need to remember him. 

“I understand,” she says, and you wonder if that's the reason she's pinned photos of Costia on her and Samuel's bedroom wall. You don't blame her if it is. It's important to remember the good things; for Samuel in particular because he's so young. 

“Was he a musician?” She asks. 

“No. He just loved to listen to it,” you explain. “He was my biggest fan when I started singing and performing.” The memories make you feel a bit melancholic, and you suddenly realize he won't be there to experience the concert on Friday. 

“Wherever he is, I'm sure he's proud of you,” she says, as if she can read your mind. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

She pulls her chair closer to yours, close enough so she can lean her arm on the back of your chair, close enough so you can lean your head on her shoulder. It's an odd sensation to be sharing an emotional moment like this amidst a party of dancing people. Nevertheless, it feels good to share it with Lexa. She understands the feeling of loss, and it makes you feel not alone. 

“I like this song. Wanna dance?” She says. 

“Always,” you answer, giving her thigh a squeeze before getting up. 

She grabs your hand and pulls you into the middle of the crowd. “I don't know how to dance to this kind of music, but I guess if I twirl you around a little, that'll do,” she smiles. 

She twirls you once and you end up a little closer to her, one of her arms slides around your waist. The pointed look she gives you says, _’See? Easy’_. She even does that little chest puffing Samuel does and it makes you laugh. You think she knows, because her smile grows wider. 

She starts to guide you around in careful movements. It's a soft ballad, and you can't remember the name of it, but it doesn't matter because Lexa twirls you once more and the colorful lights hanging above your head shine a little brighter while your heart beats a little faster. 

“How am I doing?” She whispers next to your ear. 

You press a soft kiss against her neck, hoping it’s enough to let her know you're entranced by her gentleness. That if you could find your voice, you'd tell her this moment is the right kind of perfect. 

You don't know for how long you stay there, dancing under electric lights, but there's a pause between songs where you stop to look at her. Somehow, it feels more intimate than your surroundings should allow, so you ask her to take a walk with you. 

You stroll through narrow streets you haven't seen before, your hands entwined, the buzzing of music hitting you from every direction. 

“Did you grow up here?” You ask her. 

“Yes,” she says. 

“Bell and O’s mom, she lives here too?” They've mentioned her, but you haven't actually seen her yet. 

“Mama Blake? She used to. When we moved out, she bought a place just outside of town. More house for the money. She always said she wanted a garden to grow vegetables and also to grow old in.”

You nod. It makes sense. 

“She's there for Samuel's birthday in two weeks. I was kind of hoping you'd want to meet her,” Lexa says, biting her lip. 

“Meeting the parents? That's serious, Troublemaker.” You wink at her, but only because you actually do want to meet her adoptive mom, and you like teasing Lexa. 

“If it's too soon–”

“–I'm kidding, Lexa. I'd love to meet her,” you say, giving her hand a squeeze. “Aurora, right?”

Lexa nods, a soft smile on her lips. 

“Tell me about her?” You ask, wondering if she's just an older copy of Bellamy and Octavia. You have a hard time picturing an adult being as annoyingly childish as Octavia can be sometimes. 

“She's a fighter,” Lexa starts. “She basically raised Bell and O alone. It's been hard for her, but she still managed to take care of me too.”

Lexa talks about Aurora Blake with pride in her voice, but also a hint of melancholy. You suspect it stems from the fact that having a substitute mom means she lost her biological mom, the loss being something Lexa will always carry – you know how that feels. Your heart clenches uncomfortably realizing that you do have your biological mom, still, but she's not much of a mom to you. It makes you feel ungrateful. 

“You okay?” Lexa asks. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out. She sounds like a great woman,” you tell her, trying your best to hide your own melancholy. 

She eyes you suspiciously, you don't blame her, but this night is supposed to be a happy time, so you change the subject. 

“Lexa?”

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Take me dancing?”

The suspicion still glows in her eyes as she raises an eyebrow at you. She doesn't pressure you on the matter, though. Maybe she wants to keep this night a happy time too. Instead, she gives you that half smile you love. It reeks of trouble. It reeks beautifully. 

 

//

 

Lexa takes you to a night club. A dark, bass pulsating, strobe light shaken dance floor opens up in front of you. It's too early for a place like this to be fully packed already, but it is.

As she pulls you through the crowd, you let the bass settle in your body. The farther in she pulls you, the more you forget the outside world. It's just you and Lexa. She spins around to face you, pulling you closer, resting a hand on your hip. You're already moving, the beat lives inside you, and one of your hands find the back of her neck. It's second nature to you. Just like that first time you met her at the bar, she melts against you. Her body follows your movements like waves and it’s a matter of seconds before your mind shuts off. This is your body talking and Lexa's body speaks the same language. 

Hips swaying, rolling. Your eyes latch onto hers, the strobe light cutting up her movements into still fragments of time. You feel dizzy, blissfully so, and you're not sure whether it's because of the lights or because of that look in Lexa's eyes; like she can see right through your soul. 

Her hands are warm, adventurous as they wrap your arms around her neck, as they slide down your sides and pull you closer by your hips. 

One second your foreheads touch, the next her lips ghost along your cheekbone, your earlobe, your neck, your shoulder. It's so intense you need to close your eyes to better feel her. Tightening your grip around her neck, she answers by wrapping her arms around your waist. She pulls you even closer, and it no longer matters that you're disoriented, because you feel safe in her arms. 

Letting go entirely – of inhibitions and of time – feels like freedom. It's been a long time since you've felt like this, felt safe enough to lose control. It's been a long time coming. 

It feels exhilarating. 

She presses her lips against your neck, and you feel yourself responding immediately by tilting your head to give her better access. Her chuckle vibrates against your pulse making you realize she can do whatever she pleases with you. It's too easy for her and you want to challenge her. 

You shift to meet her lips, to kiss her, to suck on her lower lip once before pulling back. The pout on her lips, the yearning in her eyes, makes you realize it's just as easy for you. It spurs you on, and you twist in her arms, one of your hands find her neck behind you pulling her closer up against your back. Her arms encircle your waist, and her lips find your neck, your shoulder, again. You lean back against her, your bodies still melting and rolling. 

You barely take notice of the bodies around you, still, there are too many people in this room. As one of her hands slide down your thigh, her fingers teasingly brushing against the skin below the hem of your dress, you realize you need to get out of here. Soon. This is already too intimate for a night club scene. 

Twisting back to meet her eyes again, you both stop moving. She leans in, you assume, to make sure you can hear her over the thumping of beats. 

“Take me home, Clarke.” 

If a voice can be both submissive and commanding all at once, well, that's what it sounds like. You want to brazenly rub it in her face – the power you have over her – and you want to give in to her every demand, giving her full control of you, at the same time. 

It's too much and not enough. 

You must have taken too long to respond because she leans in to capture your lips, and it grows heated so fast you only have one option. Home. You break the kiss, a hand on her chest, before pulling her back through the crowd, towards the exit and out into the cool air of the night. It feels good against your sweaty skin. 

Stopping, you realize you don't know where you are. Lexa looks at you with confusion in her eyes. “Take me to your car,” you say, in an overly flirtatious voice, throwing in an exaggerated wink to prove your point, and she laughs loudly, brightly, before pulling you in one of a million possible directions. 

“Lexa?” Someone calls from behind you. 

Lexa stops to look at the person who called for her, a woman you've never met before. 

“Anya,” Lexa says. Something shifts, you're not sure what, but Lexa tenses up next to you, her hand squeezing a little harder on yours. 

“It's good to see you,” the woman says, walking towards you. 

The softness and the smiley eyes Lexa always portrays around you are gone completely. In their place are instead a chin held high and a forced blank face that shows no emotion whatsoever. 

All you can do is stand on the sideline and watch it play out, wondering who this woman is and why she makes Lexa this uncomfortable. 

Lexa doesn't respond. She swallows hard, giving the woman an uncharacteristic nod. You don't even know how to interpret it; it doesn't look like a greeting, nor does it feel polite.

“Still not talking to me,” the other woman sighs. “Look, Lexa. I know you know it wasn't my fault... for some reason, I'm still terribly sorry. I miss hanging out with you,” she says.

There's a storm in Lexa's eyes, dark and ominous. You squeeze her hand to let her know you're there for her, and she looks at you, pain ridden eyes, before looking back at the woman. 

Still not talking. 

“Okay,” the woman sighs. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. It's good seeing you again.”

Your eyes ping pong between Lexa's clenched jaw and the disappearing form of a woman you have absolutely no idea who is except she triggers Lexa in ways only the loss of Costia does. 

It takes a while before Lexa finally looks at you. 

“I'm sorry,” she says, her eyes falling to the pavement. 

“Wanna talk about it?” That's the least intrusive way you could find to ask her who the hell this woman is. You're definitely concerned. 

“Uhm, can we not…” she starts, then looks at you. “She was Costia's best friend. You deserve to know what it's about, but I can't do it tonight. I want this night to be about us and I won't let bumping into Anya ruin it.”

Maybe it doesn't work that way, you think. 

“Please, Clarke, not tonight.” 

Lexa is the most loyal, trustworthy person you know. For that reason alone, you believe her. This is not about avoiding an uncomfortable talk. You understand that this night is about the two of you having a good time away from all the worries in your life. 

You step towards her and lean in to press a kiss against her lips. “Okay,” you say. “Not tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, Commander,” you say, trying to lighten the mood, “take me to your car so I can take you home.”

She chuckles against your lips. “Thank you,” she repeats.


	17. Take What You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you!  
> Thank you thank you thank you for all the nice comments and kudos etc. I know I say this a lot, but I do really appreciate it!!!
> 
> I love that you guys are curious about Anya. I hope to cast a light on the mystery soon.  
> This chapter - as mentioned before - is entirely Lexa's POV and picks up where I let the story: that means the 2nd part of the date.
> 
> There are seven chapters left of Them Troublemakers. Twenty-four in total. I think this is the worst thing about writing stories... having them come to an end. I'm already melancholic about it *sigh*
> 
> Anyways, I hope to be ready to present first chapter of my next multi chapter when Them Troublemaker ends. Working title is My Soul Alight, it's a magic AU, so mysteries and magic things happen... and perhaps a little clexa love, too <3 I will do a more serious summary in due time.
> 
> For now, though... let's see what them troublemakers are up to.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

The car ride to Clarke's apartment is quiet, too quiet to be comfortable, but you don't blame her. You’ve spent the past twenty minutes trying to push back the feelings meeting Anya has brought to the surface. Not knowing what to say to Clarke, you can't expect anything else from her. 

Doing your best not to push Clarke away, you rest your hand on her thigh whenever driving the car allows it. Taking your hand in hers, she lifts it to press a kiss to that sensitive spot between your first two knuckles. Her lips are careful and warm against your skin, and you briefly allow yourself to think that you don't deserve a woman like Clarke Griffin. 

“I had fun tonight,” she says, as you park outside her apartment building. “Thank you for taking me to the festival.”

“You're welcome,” you tell her. You feel a smile on your lips, but you're not sure exactly how visible it is. “I had fun too.”

“Lex,” she says, finding your hand again. “Stay with me tonight.” 

“You sure?” There's nothing more you want right now, but you understand if your reaction to meeting Anya has made her change her mind. 

“Yes. I promised you, we don't talk about it tonight, and I'm not ready for our date night to be over,” she says, squeezing your hand. 

You nod, seeking the truth in her eyes. “Okay,” you whisper. 

“Okay,” she copies, reaching to open the car door. 

“No!” You blurt out, rushing out of the car to get the door for her. 

As you offer her your hand, she sighs, rolling her eyes playfully at you, and you think that maybe this night _is_ salvageable after all. 

Entwining your fingers, Clarke guides you to her apartment, where you kick off your shoes while she locks the door behind you.

You take a moment to appreciate the privacy. Just you and her. No crowd, no strangers, no Samuel. You've been waiting for this moment for a long time, but it feels a little off tonight. It's there in the unanswered questions you know Clarke has. It's there in the unresolved conflict between you and Anya. It's there in the guilt of not telling Clarke about it yet. You want to fix it, Clarke deserves better. 

“Anya is–” You start, but Clarke interrupts you. 

“No. Not tonight.”

“What?” Clarke dismissing your attempt of explaining things takes you off guard. 

“Not tonight. Tell me what you need,” she says, commanding you, the flat of her palms sliding along your suspenders. 

“Clarke…”

“I'm giving you a free pass. Only tonight. What do you need?”

You need to feel in control. You need to get it out – the frustration – because you know it'll settle like bad seeds in the back of your mind if you don't. The look in Clarke's eyes tells you to “go ahead, take what you need.” You want to, but a voice in the back of your mind tells you that Clarke has been abused and she might not respond well to you taking the control. 

“Lexa,” Clarke says, still a command. You realize she's not letting you push her around. She's letting you feed on her strength tonight. She's _giving_ you control; you can never take it from her.

So you give in. 

You surge forward, crashing your body against hers until you have her pinned against the wall next to her front door. 

Her tongue against yours is a bruising dance as you pin her arms above her head. You grind into her and she gasps into your mouth. She bites down on your lower lip, enough to hurt a little. Her eyes are challenging you to repay it, but you're not sure you're able to hurt Clarke; not even if she were to beg you. 

“Take what you need,” she says. 

Letting go of her arms, you entangle your hands in her hair. You give it a tug, not a hard one, not enough to evaporate the pocket of pain that lives inside your chest. 

“Let go,” she then says, her voice soft as silk. You realize she's not talking about your hands in her hair, but your inhibitions. The tip of her tongue teases your lips, her eyes never leaving yours. It's another challenge. 

Something inside you wants to growl. It's the beginning of a rumble deep in your chest, it's years of frustration and pain bubbling below the surface wanting to be set free. You can't take it anymore. It's the closest you've been to get it out since Costia died. It's now or never, the voice in the back of your mind tells you. It's the last thing it tells you tonight.

You kneel in front of Clarke, your hands find the soft skin on the back of her knees. You find her eyes again. She runs her thumb along your lower lip, and you suck it in, biting down gently. You see the reaction in Clarke's eyes, the movement of her chest; she stops breathing for a moment. 

Her head tilts back against the wall as your hands slide up the back of her thighs. They find the hem of her panties, which you slowly pull off of her. That's the thing you love about dresses. Easy access. It means you can easily wrap Clarke's leg over your shoulder, lift up the dress and _take what you need_ without having to take off layers of clothes first. 

There's something primal about not being able to wait. It's in the way Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and the way she needs to grab at your head and shoulders as to not lose her balance. It's in the way you take your time but she's a shaking mess above you not a minute later. 

Taking the control doesn't mean hurting Clarke. It pains you a little that she associates those two things with each other. Rather, you can be gentle and still have the upper hand. You stop what you do to look at her, to take her in. She's balancing on the edge. You can control _that_ without hurting her; you intend to. 

She's a gorgeous, flustered mess. 

Mouth agape, she silently asks you why you stopped. You kindly respond, by standing up, standing as close to her without touching her, lips barely an inch apart. 

“Lick it off,” you tell her, gently, and you watch her, frustration and disbelief in her eyes as she reaches up to cup your cheek. “No touching,” you instruct, and she drops her hands to her sides. She raises an eyebrow at you, so you repeat, “lick it off.”

With flames burning in her eyes, she drops her gaze to your lips before kissing you. You let her control it, sucking herself off your lips.

“Turn around,” you whisper. 

She does. 

Slowly, you unzip her dress and pull it over her head. You unclasp her bra, letting it slide to the floor in front of her. You undress yourself, too. You take your time, impressed that Clarke hasn't turned around yet. 

Taking in the woman in front of you, her soft curves and naked skin, her golden hair loosely hanging around her shoulders, you realize that Clarke has dimples at the small of her back, too. It makes you smile. It makes you realize that there are still parts of Clarke yet to be explored. It's a journey you can't wait to happen. 

There’s nothing holding you back now, so you run a finger down her spine. She shivers under your touch. Your fingertips travel along her shoulders, her shoulder blades, her arms, the full length of her back, her buttcheeks, before you press your front against her back encircling her waist with your arms. 

You take your time, your chin resting on her shoulder, the scent of her shampoo tickling your nose. 

“You okay?” You ask her, because she's uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Yes,” she rasps, leaning her head back against your shoulder. “A little, uh, pent up, maybe…”

“Good,” you say, gently biting down on her shoulder, your fingertips tracing random patterns below her navel, and she shivers again, the tremors settling between your legs.

“You're awful,” she sighs, a playful tone in her voice. 

“Mh, I can stop,” you say, taking a step back. 

“Lexa!” She spins around, glowering at you, still a gorgeous, flustered mess. “Don't you dare!” 

You meet her halfway in a kiss, her lips swallowing your grin, her hands finding the back of your head, your hands finding the back of her thighs. You hoist her up and carry her to bed. 

“I'm not done with you,” you tell her, hovering over her, her legs still wrapped around you. 

She tries to kiss you, but you lift your head, so she can't reach you. Her impatient huff has you smiling, well, smirking. 

“I'm taking what I need,” you explain, “so keep those tempting lips and them wandering hands to yourself, or I'm not sure I'll be able to help you with that pent-up situation of yours.”

Clarke biting her lip in an attempt to control herself is goddamn irresistible, a little bit adorable too. It's right then and there you realize that you don't need to control this situation, you simply need to be close to Clarke. 

As close as possible. 

The more you try to melt into her, it seems you’re never able to get close enough. The third time her hands wander onto your skin, you let her, you've teased her enough, or perhaps, you've already taken what you need and now you need to give instead. 

She doesn't ask you to take what you need again. She doesn't have to. This is not about being there for each other, it's about being together. Somewhere in the back of your mind there's a hint of a fleeting thought; you wonder if maybe this is a sign, that – despite moving way too fast and having to deal with Finn at the same time – you and Clarke are in a good place. 

It's your last coherent thought of the night before handing back the control to Clarke. 

 

//

 

Something tickles. Soft fingertips brush against the small of your back and moist lips add featherlight pressure on your shoulder. This waking up morning bliss is almost too good to be true. 

There's the warmth of morning sun through the window, Clarke's scent is all-consuming, and you only really have enough energy to smile, still half asleep. 

A breathy chuckle caresses your ears. Lips move to press against your eyebrow. “Lex,” the voice calls. 

“Mh,” is what you’re able to muster. 

“Show me those sexy eyes,” the voice husks. 

The smile on your lips grows into a grin. “No,” you say. 

“But I miss them,” she says. You don't need to look at her to know she's pouting. 

“If you could see what I see behind my eyelids right now, you wouldn't want to open them either,” you say, punctuating your statement with a dreamy sigh. 

“What do you see?” She asks, part curious, part impatient. 

A smirk seems like the only right answer. 

“Really,” she says. “You've got the real deal, naked and touchable, right here in front of you.”

“Are you doing that thing you did last night?”

That thing she did last night is definitely something that'll be distracting you for a while. Yep. What a welcoming distraction that is. 

“Yes, yes I am,” she says, her voice sultry and inviting with a hint of amusement to it. 

You crack open one eye only to find her smiling softly at you. “Lying doesn't suit you, Clarke,” you say, now looking at her with both eyes. “That thing you did last night, however…”

With Clarke's morning chuckles and _oh, shut up_ kisses, you're pretty sure there's no better way to be awoken – even if you do miss Samuel and his Superman pj’s. 

“Can we talk about Anya?” You ask her, between kisses, because it's back in your mind planting bad seeds. 

She nods. “If you want.”

“I do.” Taking a deep breath you start by saying, “Anya was Costia's best friend.” You then cringe because Clarke already knows this. It's the only thing she knows, and it's what you tell her. You need her to know all of it, so you continue. “She was her colleague too. Costia wasn't supposed to… it was supposed to be Anya…” 

“Hey,” Clarke says, finding your hand. “It's okay.” 

It's easy to believe Clarke. It's easy to hang onto her hand and pull the strength you need.

“Anya had a last minute family emergency, so they begged Costia to take over, and she said yes. For Anya.” You sit up, leaning against Clarke's headboard and Clarke takes a seat next to you, never letting go of your hand. 

“Anya and I hung out a lot while Costia was gone. It was easier to miss her that way, you know?”

You look at Clarke, her bright blue eyes filled with concern. You have absolutely no idea what she's thinking, but it's clear she's focused on you. 

“I haven't seen Anya since the memorial. For the longest of time, I blamed her for Costia's…” Your eyes fall upon your entwined hands. Clarke gives yours a gentle squeeze. It helps a little. “Seeing Anya reminds me of losing Costia.”

“Breathe,” Clarke whispers. 

You exhale, a breath that feels heavy and poisonous, one you didn't realize you'd been holding in. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“It's okay,” she says, “just keep breathing.”

“I couldn't handle looking at Anya knowing it was supposed to have been her, and I couldn't handle wishing someone else dead instead. I didn't like what those thoughts did to me, because deep down I knew Anya didn't deserve it. It's not her fault. It's just… random. It's life. So I avoided her.”

You look back up at Clarke to say the one thing you need her to know. “Seeing Anya always made me go to a very dark place in my mind, and I had to rely on Bell to bring me out of it again. Yesterday was… Old habits die hard, I guess. What I need you to understand is that I never went to that dark place yesterday. Partially because I've made peace with losing Costia, partially because of you.”

“Me?” It's barely a whisper. 

“Yes. You. You squeezed my hand and it anchored me.” You lift her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“Lex…” Still not even a whisper.

“Clarke, I… Are we okay?” This is your biggest fear; that yesterday broke something between you. 

“Yes, we're okay. The only thing I'm asking for is that you don't push me away. I don't think I can handle that.”

“That's the last thing I want to do.”

“I believe you,” she says, and leans in to steal a chaste kiss. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you miss Anya?”

Her question is a punch to your gut. While you haven't given Anya much thought lately, you're certain of the answer. 

“Yes. A lot,” you admit. 

“Maybe you should consider doing something about that,” she suggests.

“Maybe,” you copy. It's a terrifying thought because it means there's a chance you'll be ripping open old wounds. 

“Lexa?” Clarke interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mh?”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

There aren't strong enough words to explain to Clarke how grateful you are for her. The one that springs to mind is a four-letter word beginning with an L, and you're not sure this is the best time for that reveal – it's too soon, or the wrong context, maybe – so you kiss her instead. You kiss her with a racing heart and quivering lips, failing to keep any of them under control. You can't be entirely sure, but the hand she uses to cup your jaw seems to shake a little, too. 

There's that need again, the need to be impossibly close to her. It's the last rational thought you have before she straddles you.

“I could get used to this,” she says, looking down on you. 

“What,” you whisper. You swallow hard. 

“This,” she says. “Us.”

“Me too,” you hear yourself say. 

“You okay?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “I have this craving, though.” The smirk on her lips a dangerous kind of mischief. 

“Something I can do to… uh… help you… with that… craving of yours?” You stumble over your words, a reaction to Clarke leaving wet kisses on your neck.

“Only you can,” she whispers next to your ear, before swallowing what's left of your self control in a kiss. 

 

//

 

It takes you and Clarke forever to get ready. You tell yourself it's because she shamelessly walks about her apartment with very little clothes on, but really, it's because you can't keep your hands to yourself. 

It takes you forever, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. You wish you had more time alone with her. It's a good thing, you tell yourself. It means good things. Only good things. 

“This is the second best date I've ever been on – only beaten by my cartoon date with Sam,” she winks at you. 

You grin at her like a fool madly in love. 

You feel a little like one, too. 

She pulls you into one final kiss before you turn the corner to join the gang at the playground. 

It's a peculiar sight that meets you. Samuel and Raven are seated at the picnic table, arm wrestling. It's not the first time it happens, and you know she'll let him win. The peculiar thing is Bellamy and Octavia hanging from the monkey bars trying to pull each other off them. Lincoln is standing next to them with a look he usually only wears when he's dealing with highly uncoordinated children doing activities that might not be the safest. You don't blame him. Growing up alongside Bellamy and Octavia, you've witnessed one too many of these sibling battles with an unfortunate outcome; it's usually Bellamy that ends up with an injury. 

“My money is on your girlfriend,” you tell Lincoln as you walk past him. 

Lincoln sighs in return, one of those ‘I didn't sign up to become their nanny, but here I am’ sighs. There have been several of those sighs throughout history. With good reason, too. Bellamy has sprained his left ankle three times and broken a thumb once. He never learns. 

Samuel is entirely caught up in his arm wrestling match and you stand behind him waiting for Raven to feint fatigue, her arm wobbling a little while she grunts through gritted teeth. Samuel puts all his weight into throwing Raven's arm down, and he lifts his own little arms into the air celebrating his victory. 

“Defeated by SuperBoy again!” Raven sighs.

“Good match,” Samuel then says and holds out his hand to Raven. 

“Why, such a gentleman you are,” Raven winks at him as she shakes his hand. 

“I think that calls for ice cream,” you interrupt them. 

“Mama!” Samuel squeals as he nearly falls off the bench to get to you. 

The full-on arms around your thighs hug is one of your favorites. It reminds you he's still a kid. A kid that grows really fast, but a kid nonetheless. 

“Did you have fun?” You ask him. 

“Uh, yes! We made pizza and Auntie O let me put extra cheese on mine,” he grins. 

“Extra cheese, huh? Is there room at all for ice cream in there?” You poke him in the belly, and he squirms out a giggle. 

“Uh, yes! Chocolate ice cream.” As if on cue, he looks around for his chocolate ice cream buddy, and as he spots her standing next to Lincoln by the monkey bars, he calls, “Clarke!” as he begins his race against time orbiting away from you and towards her. 

“Sam!” Clarke turns around just in time to meet his body slamming into her legs.

“So, how was your date?” Raven asks, your eyes still on Clarke and Samuel. 

“It was nice,” you say, taking a seat by the picnic table. 

“Nice?” Raven copies. 

“Yep,” you grin. You know Raven wants more – the juicy details and all that – but your date with Clarke was a series of events too precious to share with anyone but Clarke. You kind of want to keep the details to yourself. 

“I'll try Clarke later,” Raven says, leaning back to let the sun soak her up. 

“You do that.”

“Lex.” Bell takes a seat next to you, nudging his shoulder against yours. He wiggles his eyebrows, silently asking how your date went. 

You shrug, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Forget it Bell, I already tried,” Raven sighs. 

“Lame,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“We ran into Anya,” you say. She was a good friend of his too. You feel kind of guilty because your issues with Anya has caused a wedge between her and Bellamy. 

“Oh?” He says, “How is she?” 

The change in pitch in his voice isn't lost on you. Typically, it means that Bellamy is hiding something from you. You file it away for another day, not wanting to jeopardize your current good mood. 

“Don't know. We didn't talk,” you say, your eyes finding Clarke and Samuel by the monkey bars again. She's helping him swing from one end to the other, Octavia cheering from the side. 

Bellamy clears his throat. “Oh, okay,” he says. 

“I told Clarke about Anya.” You ignore his odd behavior, he avoids your eyes, his one foot tapping rapidly against the dirt underneath the picnic table. 

“You did?”

“I did. I haven't seen Anya in a long time and I freaked out a little. I wanted Clarke to know why.” 

Talking about it still hurts, even if it's Bellamy who's been there for you through everything. Anya is a sore spot because she reminds you of a version of yourself you don't ever want to see again. 

“How did she take it?”

“Surprisingly well. I'm not much to admit it,” you tell him, because he's Bellamy, your best friend, the one you owe your life, “but she made me realize that I miss Anya and maybe it's time to stop holding Costia's death against her. I mean, I do know it's not her fault. I’m done with the anger and needing someone to blame.”

Bellamy is already looking at you when you seek out his eyes. It seems the both of you are holding your breath. He then nudges you with his elbow, “hang on to her,” he says. 

“I intend to,” you tell him, feeling a level of freedom you haven't felt in a long time.


	18. A Backyard And A Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you!
> 
> I am so, so tired and not making much sense today, but it will not stop me from uploading this chapter.
> 
> As always, I appreciate you. Each and every one of you <3  
> I hope you like this.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### CLARKE

Raven texted you last night to tell you she needed to punch things. You told her to meet you at the gym today after work. 

It's been a good couple of days since your date with Lexa. You forget about Finn when you're with her, and you're beginning to feel good on the days you don't see her too. It’s part Lexa, part your awesome new job and part the band and the festival gig on Friday. 

This week has been dedicated to the band. You go to work, you go to Octavia's studio, you go home to sleep. Next day is the same. Today is Wednesday, and while Lexa told you to stop worrying about it, you kind of hate that you couldn't do your Kids Gym tradition yesterday. Your heart hurts because you worry Samuel is more disappointed than you are. Lexa said not to worry, that he is looking forward to your gig on Friday. 

You still hurt a little.

Walking through the doors of Ark Gym, you realize you miss them. While you know Lexa already left to pick up Samuel, you still feel the disappointment when Lincoln greets you with a “Hey Clarke. If you're looking for Lexa, she already left.”

“I know,” you tell him. “I'm meeting Raven. We're going to punch things.”

“I see,” he grins. “I'm here for another hour if you need help with anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Linc.”

As if on cue, Raven enters the gym. “Alright, show me that thing I get to punch at,” she says. The tone in her voice sends shivers down your spine. She's angry as hell and something tells you that you won't like the cause of it. 

“What happened?” 

“Give me something to punch at and I'll tell you,” she seethes.

“Why don't I set it up for you while you get changed?” Lincoln offers. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, pulling a tense Raven with you towards the locker room. 

When you return, Lincoln is waiting by the punching bag with two pairs of boxing gloves. He helps the both of you put them on, and when he begins his introduction of safety and punching techniques to Raven, she interrupts him. 

“Lincoln! I need to punch something, like, right now!” 

“If you think I'll risk you injuring a hand only two days before our gig, you're wrong. We need your funky bass, Rae,” he says.

Lincoln has a way of keeping people grounded. It must be his soft heart, you reckon. There's nothing dramatic about this guy, his calm demeanor a perfect contrast to Octavia’s restless soul. 

“Fine,” Raven huffs. Lincoln's magic works on her too. 

After his introduction, he takes a stand behind the punch bag as Raven starts to punch. It reminds you of the time Lexa did the exact same with you. Melancholy ripples through your veins as you realize that Raven doesn't have a special someone to rely on, that, indirectly, you are the reason for that. 

The realization hits you hard.

You stop her frantic punching streak with a hand on her shoulder, “Is this about Finn?”

“What gave it away,” she says, a dark sarcasm that breaks your heart. 

“What happened?”

She returns her focus to the punch bag, the anger clearly eating her up. Lincoln has to wedge his body between her and the punching bag to stop her. “Rae,” he says, his hands on her shoulders and his calm eyes seeking hers. Raven clenches her jaw, her nostrils flare aggressively as she breathes through her nose. 

“I ran into him on my way home last night.”

“What, he's still here?” You feel sick. 

“Apparently, he lives here,” Raven spits, as she tries to move past Lincoln to get to the punching bag, but Lincoln keeps her grounded with his gentle force. 

“What!?” You hear the panic and the anger in your own voice, you feel it in your body, too. 

“He bought a tiny place with a backyard for him and his golden retriever,” Raven says, mockingly copying what you assume are Finn's own words. 

Another blow to your gut. You don't need confirmation to know that the backyard and the dog is for you. It's the future dream life the two of you always talked about. You always wanted a backyard and a dog, he wanted to make you happy. 

“Linc.” You feel the panic vibrate in your chest and clench around your lungs. “Take these off me,” the gloves get heavier and heavier, squeezing around your hands, around your lungs, and you need them off so you can breathe again. “Now, Linc!”

“Okay, Clarke, it's okay,” he says, as he quickly rids you of the gloves. 

You feel your nails dig into the palm of your hands, and it hurts like hell, so you lift your fists, unclenching them to fold them behind your head. It expands your chest too, and you need it right now to be able to breathe. 

“Clarke, what just happened?” Raven asks. 

“I'm sorry, Rae,” you tell her, because it's all your fault. 

You feel her arms around your shoulders, her body against yours. Your eyes have given up on you as you lean into her comfort. 

“What's going on?” She prompts, a sudden calmness in her place. 

Time passes excruciatingly slow until you're able to finally voice it. “He's here for me. The backyard, the dog… he's…”

“Clarke,” Raven sighs, it's compassion and frustration all at once. It's wrong because he's here because of you, and Raven suffers from it. 

You want to ask her what else he said, but you’re not sure you can handle more Finn related drama in your life. Not now. Not ever. You want him out of your life, and you assume Raven feels the same way. 

“What do I do?” Running away crosses your mind again. Vodka, too. 

“ _We_ are going to help each other,” she says. “And we're going to let our friends help us too. If he shows up again, and won't take no for an answer, I'm gonna kick his ass. Linc just taught me to punch, we're good.”

You hear Lincoln chuckle next to you. You hear yourself chuckle, too. 

“I think we're done punching things for today,” Raven says, giving your torso a squeeze before letting you go. “If it wasn't for band hangout tonight I'd totally get drunk right now.”

“I can't drink,” you tell her. 

“I always wondered about that,” she says. Her voice reveals she's afraid to ask into it. 

“I used to get drunk to numb the pain. I don't like what it does to me,” you explain. It's sort of vague, but you don't feel like giving details right now. 

“Mh, ice cream then,” she says, and it makes you smile. 

“Rae?”

“Yeah?”

“Did he… Was he nice to you?”

“Yeah. He always was. I guess that's why I'm so angry with him. He's hard to hate when he's charming.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Clarke, if you don't stop apologizing for something Finn did, I swear I'm gonna punch you instead,” Raven smiles. 

“I'll punch you right back,” you tell her, reciprocating her smile. 

In a twisted way, it feels kind of nice to bond with Raven over Finn. The phrase “you're not alone in this” makes a whole lot more sense knowing Raven hates this situation as much as you. Unlike Lexa and all the others, Raven actually knows what it means to not want Finn around. She knows what it's like to fall for his charming eyes. She knows what's like to be betrayed by him, too. 

She knows what it feels like to run from the past. 

The past always catches up on you. 

The disappointment that comes from learning that lesson, she knows that too.

__________

#### RAVEN

Lincoln waits for you and Clarke to get changed. You tell him he doesn't have to; you’re girls and you take your time in the locker room. 

“Not a problem,” he says. “We’re all gonna end up at the studio anyways.”

You suspect him of looking out for you. A sort of passive version, anyway. It's like he understands that you don't like talking about your pain, and a silent hand on your shoulder is enough to make you feel better. Not good, just better. His mere presence: a passive kind of looking out for you. 

While you're happy that Octavia has a man of that caliber in her life, you also kind of envy her. 

Your parents, drunk off their asses most of the time, never really cared for you. You didn't have close friends back in Arkadia, mostly keeping to yourself. Music became your escape the minute your dad's drinking buddy taught you to the play _twinkle, twinkle little star_ on the battered-up, old piano at the local pub. You were only seven, then, and it took you another seven years to fall in love with the bass guitar. 

Your first real friend – human friend – was Finn. He was gentle and kind, and he pulled you out of your shell with a steady hand to hold on to. 

Your first real lover – one that stayed for more than just the night – was Finn, too. No man or woman before him could handle the mess you were. He didn't ask for anything, but still, you gave him all you had. You loved his charm and his praising words. You were a strong, beautiful woman in his eyes and he never stopped telling you that. Eventually, you believed him, too.

Your first betrayal was, ironically, not your dad when he sobered up and left you and your mom behind. It was Finn. He betrayed you when he asked you to marry him, when he six months later came home and told you he'd fallen in love with another woman. He still loved you, but he loved her more. 

Your savior: Arkadia, a random meeting with a fiery, skinny, black-haired woman named Octavia at a bar where a local band played. Coincidentally, you told her you could totally do a better job than their bassist and Octavia then insisted you’d audition for her band, _The Fever_ , who were in a desperate need of a new bassist. 

A lot can happen in three years. Octavia's friendship healed you. You still tend to hide your pain behind your walls, but the pain isn't all-consuming. Finn being here has made you realize that you don't hurt over him anymore. You’re angry with him, yes, but he's your past, and your new life is worth a lot more. 

Recently you've learned the real reason behind your pain. You're lonely. You need a Lincoln to your Octavia, a Lexa to your Clarke. You need someone to ground you with a hand on your shoulder. Someone strong enough to help you carry your burden. You need someone to _insist_ being there for you even when you push them away. It's a lot to ask for. It's unreasonable to demand any such thing. That's also why you don't expect it to happen. 

Clarke needs Lexa right now. 

Watching Clarke’s eyes slide towards Lexa's office even though she knows she isn't there is a painful affair. Nearly as painful as watching Lexa miss Costia after she died. Those two idiots are good for each other. You're happy to see they've found someone to keep them strong. You envy them, too. 

You try your best to leave the pain and the frustration of learning that Finn moved here at the gym. It's a silent car ride except for the random pop tunes on the radio. You kind of want to hear something angry – loud heavy metal would do – but both you and Clarke are in the back seat, so Lincoln has full power of radio settings. 

Lincoln's focus is partially in the road, partially on you and Clarke. Clarke's focus is inwards. You don't blame her; you've had since last night to digest the Finn news, Clarke has had about an hour. 

“Stay here, I need to buy a few things, be right back,” Lincoln says before slamming the car door shut behind him. 

The silence is painful. 

You want to see her smile again. 

“What do you call a peanut in a spacesuit?” The joke Samuel told you the other day is the only thing you can think of. 

It does the trick. She chuckles and looks at you. 

“It's a tough one, right? A hard _nut_ to crack, so to speak.” You wiggle your eyes at her. 

“Sam?” She asks you, a knowing smile on her lips. 

“Oh, you heard it already?” You know she did, but you want to keep this going for as long as possible, to keep her smiling for as long as possible. 

“Only three times. It’s getting harder and harder to act surprised.”

“True.”

“Rae?” 

“Yeah?”

“Did he tell you the name of his dog?”

For a second, you consider lying. He did tell you, but you get the feeling that he named the dog because of some sentimental thing that'll disturb Clarke more than she already is. 

You can't lie. You can't do it to her. 

“Billie.”

You watch her reaction. Her eyes fluttering shut, the bopping of her throat as she swallows hard. The weak nod of her head as if saying, “of course”.

“What does it mean?”

She shakes her head. 

“You don't have to tell me. But if you want to, I'm here. I'm on your side.”

“Billie Holiday,” she whispers. “My dad's favorite singer. My mom is allergic to dogs, but me and my dad always wanted one. He wanted to name it Billie.”

“And Finn knows…” As you say it out loud, you realize exactly what it implies. Finn found Clarke. He bought a place with a backyard and a dog named Billie for Clarke. He sought her out with every intention of making things up to her. 

“Yeah,” she breathes. 

You realize something else, too. Although he asked you to marry him, you never really talked about what your future were to hold. The thing is, he was all you needed. You never had much, so when you found him, you already had all you needed. 

Maybe that's why he left you. 

Maybe he’s the kind of guy who needs to make his girl’s dreams come true; and you never had any. 

Maybe. 

God, you hate that word. 

What if? Could it have been different? If you had wanted a backyard and a dog, would Finn have stayed with you? 

“Rae?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry he hurt you. You don't deserve it. If I could make him go away, I would,” she says. 

“Likewise,” you say.

Lincoln enters the car again, leaving a bag of whatever he had to buy on the passenger's seat next to him. As the car starts rolling again, you try your best to leave your insecurities behind at the parking lot. 

“What did you get?” Clarke asks, leaning forward to look into the bag. 

“Ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream,” he says.

The gesture nearly shatters your heart. At once you feel both thankful for having this precious friend in your life and ashamed for all the times you wish you had more. 

This is more than most people have. 

You _are_ grateful. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you of that fact. 

“My hero,” Clarke beams. 

Along with the rest of the band, he's sort of your hero too.

__________

#### CLARKE

Ridiculous amounts of ice cream and a well-deserved stomach ache later, you and Raven are finally ready to get some work done. You're going through the set list for the gig on Friday, and it's nearly too good to be true – even the two new songs feels familiar like old friends. 

The excitement vibrates in the air as the last song is done. Octavia looks like she's ready to throw her drum sticks out into the imaginative crowd, Monty sports his laid back, yet impressed smile, and Raven and Lincoln high-fives over the vibrations from their loose strings still trembling in the air around you. 

It feels good. 

It feels fucking fantastic. 

“Do you think they'll allow me to crowd surf?” You always wanted to try that. You feel like flying right now, you wonder what it feels like becoming one with the audience as they carry you forward with excitement. 

“Do it anyway,” Raven grins. 

“I might, if the crowd seems up for it,” you say, the anticipation of a maybe making you comfortably restless. 

Octavia kicks out a few beats on the big drum as if she doesn't want to ever stop drumming.

“Gimme,” Raven says, holding out her hand for Octavia's drumsticks. 

“No,” Octavia pouts, but hands them over anyways. Reluctantly, she gets up and throws herself onto the couch. “No fun,” she mutters, as she walks by you – the corner of her mouth twisting into a playful smile.

“Guys, something else,” you start, and everyone stops what they're doing to look at you. “Would it be alright with you if I wore the Superman T-shirt Sam gave me? I know it’s not usually our dress code, but it's a festival–”

“Ooh!” Octavia interrupts you. She jumps off the couch and storms upstairs, but she's back again before you know it. 

She throws something at you, a leather jacket. “Wear that over it,” she grins. “It's faux leather, don't worry.”

You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Well, I thought you being a vet… you may want to know that.”

The fact that she even considered it warms your heart, because yes, you do in fact have an issue with people wearing animals for fashion. A little bit. 

You try it on. Octavia is a size smaller than you, but it fits you perfectly. It's a true rock star piece with an asymmetrical zip up and shiny metal details on the collar and down the sleeves. 

“A tip for you. Lexa has a thing for leather jackets,” Octavia smirks.

The insinuation of sinful things isn't lost on you. The glowing red burning on your cheeks isn't lost on the others either. Lincoln and Monty chuckles while Raven explodes with laughter, shifting on the couch to high-five Octavia. 

“I'm just saying, if you won't do the time, don't do the crime,” Octavia continues. She's obviously enjoying your embarrassment. 

“Oh god,” you mutter. “Please, shut up.”

Another high-five happens behind your back. This is going to be a long night.

 

//

 

Thursday is a ten-hour day at work. It's your compromise to be able to get Friday off. It's also exhaustive to the point that you're no help at all as you go to Octavia's at 8pm to help the band pack the needed equipment for the gig. 

You take a break on the couch and Octavia wakes you up by taking a seat on top of you. You keep apologizing until all four of them laughs at you. They send you home, they’ve got it covered. Your next apology is wrapped in a jaw breaking yawn and they laugh at you again, so you do as they say, you go home to get some sleep. 

You miss Lexa's call at 9:30pm too. Something you only realize as you wake up on your couch at 3am, still in yesterday's clothes. 

There are two unanswered calls and a text message. 

**Troublemaker:**  
_Hey Sunshine. Something tells me you were too exhausted to stay awake. I kind of miss you drooling all over my pillow ;) Can't wait to see you tomorrow. Sleep tight <3_

The little heart at the end sends your own into overdrive behind your ribs. You're disappointed that you missed the call, and it takes all your strength not to text her back in the middle of the night. She wouldn't reply anyways. Instead, you get up, get ready for for bed thinking the sooner you fall asleep the sooner you get to see her tomorrow. 

 

//

 

As you walk along sidewalks towards Lexa's gym, you realize you're more excited about seeing her than playing at the festival tonight; something you never thought possible. 

Pushing open the entrance door, you hurry inside. It's ridiculous, the closer you get, the more your impatience grows. Your eyes find her leaned against the front desk, talking to Gustus before you’re fully through the door. 

“Someone’s here to see you, Troublemaker,” Gustus says, winking at you over Lexa's shoulder. 

The smile that explodes on Lexa's face when she turns around to see you is the brightest thing you've seen in a long time. Two long strides and she reaches you to pull you into a hug. 

“I'm sorry I fell asleep on you last night,” you tell her. 

“Don't worry about it,” she says, squeezing a little tighter. 

Five days. That's how long it's been since you’ve touched her, and all you want to do right now is keep holding her until your arms get weak. Even then, you want to keep holding her. Five days of not touching equals a lot of touches you've missed out on. 

A lot of kisses, too. 

You press your lips against her shoulder and she immediately presses her lips against the side of your head. It feels awfully intimate to stand like that in the middle of her gym, but you don't care. You honestly really don’t care about what anyone thinks of you holding Lexa like this.

“How are you?” She asks.

“Better,” you say.

She chuckles against your hair. “Lincoln told me about you and Raven’s punching session the other day,” she then says, her voice full of concern.

“Did he tell you about Finn?” You planned on telling her last night, but you missed her call, so you forgot.

“He did,” she says carefully, as if Lincoln had shared something that wasn’t his to share. “Are you okay?” She asks, and you pull out of the hug to look at her.

“Right this instance, yeah. I kind of need to focus on the show tonight. Can I tell you about it after? Tomorrow, maybe?” 

“Of course,” she says. “Whatever you need. Tell me if there’s anything I can do?”

“Well, actually, now that you mention it…” You pull Lexa’s green tie – the one she left hanging around your neck in the middle of Octavia's kitchen, the one that has been hanging on your dad's beat-up acoustic guitar in your living room ever since – out of your back pocket. You unfold it once, twice, tauntingly slow as you observe curiosity burn in Lexa's eyes. 

“This is your lucky tie, if I'm not mistaken.” You keep your voice a low timbre because you know it turns Lexa on. She never told you, she doesn't have to. She never hides the effect you have on her, and that's something that turns _you_ on. 

She stares at your hands as you reach up to slide it around her neck. Her lips part as you tie a perfect knot. You may play a little dirty on purpose, biting your lower lip under the disguise that you're concentrating on the task. You know it does a number on her, too. Even the little tug on the end of the tie when you're done is something Lexa very much likes. 

You lean on your toes to whisper in her ear, “wear it tonight for me, Troublemaker.” You press an almost there kiss against her jaw, and her hand tenses against your hip. 

“I… Well… Yes…” She stutters. 

“See you later, Lex,” you say, your voice back to normal. You give her your best innocent smile as you back up slowly. 

She's still staring at you, mouth agape, as you walk out the door. 

Today is a beautiful day.


	19. Hotdogs And Airplanes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you!  
> You guys keep warming my heart with your kudos and comments <3
> 
> I'm super happy that you guys liked Raven's POV in the last chapter. I was a little worried about moving a bit away from clexa, but I felt like I owed it to Raven to share her story. 
> 
> As for this chapter, it's the same time span as the previous chapter, but from Lexa's POV. It may or may not end with the tie scene at the gym (you guys really like that tie, don't you). Before that happens, I'm gonna have to pull you through a bit of a roller coaster ride <3 
> 
> I hope you like it! 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

Nothing hurts more than seeing your child heartbroken. You did what you could to prevent it. You sat him down and talked to him about Clarke not joining Kids Gym this week. He understood, you know he did, but it still left him a disappointed mess yesterday. 

He stayed in his room most of the evening with his animals coloring book and his crayons, cross-legged on the floor, a pout on his lips.

Every time you checked in on him, he answered all your _Hey, Sam, how’s it going’s_ with silence and a couple of aggressive strokes of crayon against paper. 

Last night, you were The Worst Mother Of The Year. 

Undeniably, it stung. 

He was still a little sad this morning, and your poor heart couldn't handle another evening of The Clarke Blues – he's not the only one who misses her – so you decided you'd take him somewhere special after daycare to cheer him up. 

“Look! An airplane, Mama!” Samuel beams, one hand pointing towards the deep blue horizon, the other excitedly squeezing yours. 

“Where?” You pretend you can't see it. It works like a charm. 

“There!” He says, throwing his index finger forward. 

The more the airplane descends, the more excited Samuel gets. You watch him more than the airplane. Eyes wide open and mouth agape, he watches it touch the ground, and as it zooms by you, he jumps a little in his spot. He lets go of your hand, only to storm forward and hook his fingers in the wire fence separating you from the runway. 

“Did you see it, Mama!?” He yells. 

“Yes, Sam. I did. Pretty cool, huh?” 

“The coolest!”

Witnessing his excitement, you wonder why you haven't taken him here before. It's a fleeting thought only, because the truth is you know why.

“Do you want a hotdog, Sam?”

He doesn't answer, he's too busy looking for airplanes in the sky. 

“Sam?” A little louder. 

“Mh?”

“Do you want a hotdog?”

“Okay,” he says, distracted again. 

“Come on, let's take a seat.” 

You touch his shoulder and he grabs your hand. His eyes are glued to the sky as you pull him towards a picnic table next to the food truck. You let him sit there while you buy hotdogs for the both of you. 

It's a bit of a roller coaster ride being here – a mixture of Samuel's excitement rubbing off on you and the melancholy of being here without Costia. 

“Mom used to take me here to watch airplanes and eat hotdogs. Did you know that, Sam?” You hand him his hotdog.

Samuel looks at you with interest for the first time in two days. His dusty blue eyes reminds you of Costia, perhaps more than they usually do because of the scenery. 

This place – dubbed Aero-Dog by a young Costia a long, long time ago – holds beautiful memories. If the zoo is your special family spot, this tiny place in the middle of nowhere with hotdogs, and airplanes soaring through the sky, is your special couples spot. 

Costia brought you here on your first date. You were friends already, and she wanted to show you a part of her you didn't already know. Her dad was in the air force, he'd died a couple years prior from a sudden heart attack. He used to bring her here as a kid. It was her happy place. 

She kissed you between hotdogs and airplanes, and you fell in love with her that night. 

You spent many dates here after that. She proposed to you here, too. It was on your anniversary. She was going to war for the first time a month later, and she needed to make sure you knew just how much she loved you. She asked you to marry her, and you said yes, but only if she promised to come back to you. 

She kept her promise, so you made sure to marry her before she went to war the second time; you needed her to know how much _you_ loved _her_. 

She returned with a fragile mind full of war, of destruction and of promises of never going back again. You thought she couldn't possibly give you anything bigger than that, but then she gave you Samuel. 

The way he looks at you right now is _so much Costia_. 

“She used to come here when she was a kid,” you tell him.

“Did she like airplanes too, Mama?”

“Yes, she did. Her dad was a pilot.”

“A pilot?”

“Uhuh.” You take a bite of your hotdog. Even the homemade ketchup reminds you of Costia. “Eat your hotdog,” you say, because Samuel is lost in the sky again. 

He takes a bite, distracted by thought. 

“Can you fly airplanes in Heaven?” He asks, once he swallows his bite. 

“I don't know, but if you can, I'm sure that's what he's doing.” 

Samuel nods and takes another bite. His unfocused eyes tell you he's daydreaming – most likely about flying. 

“Oh, here's another one.” You point in the direction of the next incoming airplane. 

They way Samuel's head snaps to better see has you chuckling. He almost drops his hotdog, and he barely registers you taking it from him to place it on the table. 

While he looks at the flying object, you look at your surroundings. There's a narrow path along the fence, and if you follow it about about a mile, you'll reach a small patch of sand with rocks formed in a circle – a fire pit – and tree stubs to sit on. That's the place where Costia, only two weeks after your first date, introduced you to her best friend.

Not many things intimidate you, but the death glare Anya gave you as she told you she'd kill you if you hurt Costia is definitely one of them. As you stuttered a “I w-won't”, Costia threw a plastic cup at Anya and told her to behave. When Anya caught the cup and threw it at you instead, you knew she'd become your friend too. She was a familiar blend of arrogant and protective – she reminded you of your own best friend, Bellamy. 

You miss both of them – Costia and Anya. They were both fearless, always seeking out a new adventure. 

Costia taught you that there's more to life than just working hard, that you're allowed to dream big. You were a good team; her restless mind and your steadfast soul. While you needed her to show you the world, she needed you to ground her. 

“Mama?” Samuel pulls you off Memory Lane. 

“Yeah, Sam?”

“What do you call a dog with a fever?” 

Another one of his terrible jokes. You know the answer, it's too obvious. What you won't do for your son. “Uhm… mh, that's a hard one, I don't know.” 

His eyes sparkle as he squeals, “a hotdog!” 

Your mom-laughter and his silly giggles make everything better. “Is that a new joke?”

“Yes. Clarke told it to me,” he says, looking at you with dusty blue eyes. There's a softness there you haven't noticed before, it reminds you of Clarke. Maybe it's the little shrug of his shoulders, or the subtle tugging of the corner of his mouth. The gentleness Clarke always looks at you with has somehow duplicated itself onto Samuel. 

“So Clarke knows funny jokes too?”

“Uh, yes!”

Something squeezes around your heart, and you aren't entirely sure if it's the reminiscing of Costia, or the fact that Clarke has wedged herself into yours and Samuel's lives to the point where Samuel copies her mannerism. 

Or, perhaps it's because this moment feels a little like a goodbye to your past and a hello to your future. 

The sentiment is a blow to your gut. It's unsettling and captivating all at once. It's the realization that time happened. It just… It happened. You sit here, by a picnic table at Aero-Dog, watching your son who has Costia's black curls and dusty blue eyes, and the thing that steals your breath away is how he has dubbed Clarke’s gentle smile. 

God, you miss her. 

Clarke, that is. 

As Samuel tells you another joke you haven't heard before – without a doubt one Clarke taught him – you realize he misses Clarke too. He misses Clarke more than he misses his mom. 

You don't know how to feel about that.

__________

#### BELLAMY

It's not something you're proud to admit, but you've been avoiding Lexa. Tonight is not the first night this week you're home later than normal. It's also not the first time guilt washes over you as you step inside your own home. 

It began when Lexa mentioned Anya at the park. 

You know you made a mistake. Or, it seemed the right thing to do at the time. The actual mistake was to keep on the charade. It's not like you don't regret it. It's just… The longer you waited, the harder it got to come clean. 

You did it to protect her. Well, that's not entirely true – you've had a long time to think about this. You did it for selfish reasons and you kept it a secret to protect Lexa. 

The light is still on in the living room, you take off your shoes. 

There's a lump in your throat that you try your best to swallow as you walk down the corridor.

“Can we talk, Bell?”

“What about?”

She's on the couch, leaned back as if she's too tired to hold her own head. She's staring at the TV, but it's not on. You take a seat next to her, propping your feet onto the coffee table. 

“Are you okay?” She then asks. 

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?” The lump in your throat is painful. 

“You haven't been home for dinner since the weekend,” she argues. 

“I've been busy,” you defend. 

“Bell,” Lexa says, an accusation. She knows you're lying. You never understood how she always knew. It's almost as if she can read your mind. 

“Lexa, I'm fine, okay? Just have a lot do.” You get up, under the disguise of going to bed, but the next thing Lexa says sinks your heart. 

“Sam was asking about you at dinner today. I know you're not his dad, but he still sees you as a role model. Please tell me what's going on. If not for me, then for Sam.”

“I'm sorry, I'll talk to him tomorrow. Make it up to him,” you say. You can't look at her. You're afraid of the things you'll discover in her eyes. You're afraid to break in front of her. Not only are you lying to Lexa, but you're hurting Samuel, too. 

“Is this about Anya?” She says. You never got a chance to leave the room. 

“Uh, no.” 

“Bell, goddammit,” she hisses, trying to keep her voice low. “You're a terrible liar. You know that?”

You turn around to look at her. She's still on the couch, straightened up, her demeanor is calm, but her eyes are burning. 

Shit. 

How the hell did she know? 

“You're acting weird every time I talk about Anya. What's going on.” It's not a question. This is Lexa ordering you to tell her if you want to stay on good terms with her. You do want to. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

“I volunteer at the veteran's center a couple of times a month.” That's your first secret. 

“What? Why?” 

Confusion. Disbelief. All of it in Lexa's eyes. 

Something snaps inside of you. 

“You're not the only one who lost her, Lex. She was your wife, yes, but she was my friend too. She was my nephew's mom and she made one hell of a job keeping you happy. I couldn't keep her safe, so I thought maybe I could help keep someone else safe.”

It's half the truth. 

Your hands are starting to hurt. Clenching your hands is a compulsive reaction to your bad temper. It directs some of the tension out of your body.

It feels like a terrible adrenaline rush; rich on destruction. 

You can't read Lexa. You don't know if she's angry or hurt or something else entirely. 

“You were inconsolable, Lex. For so long I was afraid to say the wrong thing because I knew it could potentially pull you back under again. I didn't know how to explain this to you without breaking you.”

You don't cry – you’re terrible with emotions. The warm liquid on your cheeks is unfamiliar, you see it mirrored on Lexa's face.

“I'm sorry, Lex. I don't know what else to say.” You break the eye contact first, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. 

“I don't…” Lexa’s voice indicates she's picking her words very carefully. You wonder if she would’ve yelled at you by now if Samuel wasn't asleep in a room inside this apartment. “I don't understand what Anya has to do with this,” she says. 

“She runs the veteran's center,” you explain. 

Lexa furrows her eyebrows. You know she's expecting more information from you. 

“Anya is my friend. We hang out once in a while, she introduced me to the work she does at the center. She lost Costia too, you know. She needed a friend, too,” you say, holding your breath. That's your second secret, the one you know will hurt Lexa the most. 

Lexa nods, blinks, draws in a shaky breath. You don't know what to do. You. Don't. Know. What. To. Do. 

Or say. 

It's like being at the principal's office waiting to get to know what your punishment is. 

“Okay. I can't deal with this right now. I need to think,” she says, getting up from the couch. “Sam misses Clarke a lot, and I took him out to Aero-Dog to cheer him up and–”

“Aero-Dog?” You know Lexa hasn't been there since Costia died. 

“Yes. So _please_ , don't push Sam away right now, okay? Because I can't handle it if you do. He misses you too. I’m doing the best I can to keep myself together.”

She’s about to walk past you. It's a Lexa thing. She walks away when she gets overwhelmed. It's the first sign of her pushing everyone away. 

You catch her before she leaves the room. You force her into a hug. She tries to fight you off, half-heartedly. You think, somewhere deep down, she knows she needs this. 

“I will fix it,” you tell her. “I will make sure Sam is okay tomorrow, and then I will work my ass off to earn your trust again.”

She lets you hug her. 

You let her soak your shirt.

__________

#### LEXA

“What's up?” Lincoln greets you as you enter the gym. 

It's all it takes for the tears to press on again. “Not much,” you mumble, as you head straight to your office. Once inside, you take a seat, close your eyes, try to focus on keeping the tears at bay. 

You didn't sleep much last night. Too many things ran through your head. It was an emotional ride visiting Aero-Dog again, something you haven't had a chance to digest yet. You needed Bellamy last night and he wasn't there. You don't know what hurts more: the fact that Bellamy has been hanging out with Anya behind your back, or the fact that he felt like he couldn't tell you. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

You look up to find Lincoln's head floating in the doorway. 

You sigh. You really don't want to, but a Lincoln talk might actually be what you need to calm down. 

He takes a seat next to you and hands you one of the plush basketballs. He throws one himself, it goes right through the hoop. 

Calm. 

“I took Sam out to Aero-Dog yesterday. He misses Clarke a lot, and he loves airplanes, so I thought it would cheer him up.”

You throw your plush ball. 

“Did it?” Lincoln asks. 

“It did. He loves airplanes.” Memories of a Samuel watching airplanes makes you smile a little. 

“I'm guessing there's more to this story?” 

“The last time I was there was with Costia. I knew it would be hard to go there, the memories and all. But then Samuel was looking at me, and I kept seeing Clarke in him. He told me jokes that she taught him and he even smiles a little like her sometimes.”

Lincoln hands you another plush ball, you throw it, it goes in. 

“It was like I was stuck between the past and the future in a way. I realized how much Clarke has seeped into our lives. It isn't a bad thing, but… I don't know… I wasn't expecting it to interfere with the memories of Costia like that.”

“Mh…You don't want it to?” Lincoln asks, then throws another plush ball. 

“It's not that… it's just… a lot. It's something I can't control. You know I like the control.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, it's a low rumble in his chest. He looks at you as he says, “how's Bellamy?”

Just the mention of his name makes your gut churn. 

“I mean,” Lincoln continues, “you know you can always come to me, but you usually go to him with these things.”

“We’re having a bit of a fallout,” you sigh. Truthfully, this is what really bothers you.

“What did he do now?” Lincoln throws another ball. 

“Apparently, he's been volunteering at the veteran's center and hanging out with Anya. He's been avoiding me since I told him about my rendezvous with Anya, so I confronted him last night.”

“He's talking to Anya?”

“Yes. He said they both lost Costia too, and that they needed each other.” You swallow hard. “It's not even… I think I understand why he didn't tell me. I hated Anya, for a long time. But he's been lying to me. Behind my back. I think that's what really hurts.”

“Ouch. Are you okay with him talking to Anya?”

“Honestly? If you'd have asked me before Clarke happened, I probably would've given Bellamy hell. Even though I know it's unreasonable to dictate who he hangs out with. But now? I understand his reasons.”

“So it's the secrets,” Lincoln states. 

“Yes. He's my brother, he's supposed to be my best friend. He's supposed to know I need the honesty more than to be shielded from the pain.”

“I understand. My advice?”

“You’re giving out advice now?” You copy the smile on Lincoln's lips. 

“It happens,” he grins. “Listen, Bellamy is all about protecting his family. What he did wasn't the smartest move, I agree, but you and I both know he did it to protect you.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I still need him to fry a little.”

“Well, if you need someone to toss him around a little,” Lincoln says, playfully throwing his fists around in a pretend fight, “I know a blue-eyed singer and a dark-haired bassist who can throw a punch.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What the hell is he talking about?

“Rae and Clarke came in here yesterday to punch at things,” he elaborates.

“Oh? Are they okay?” If Clarke wants to punch at things, it's because something is wrong.

“Uh, you haven't heard?” Lincoln hesitated. 

“Heard what?”

“Rae ran into Finn the other day. Apparently he lives here now.”

“What!?” 

“Yeah, she had some frustration to get rid of. Look, you might wanna talk to Clarke about it. Rae said something about a backyard and a dog, and it shook up Clarke.”

Your head is swimming. You can't handle any more drama this week. You need to know Clarke is okay, but she's at work, so you can't call her. 

“Look, she and Rae handled it pretty well. I bought them ice cream and they're good at taking care of each other. Don't worry, okay? I just thought you should know.”

“Yeah, okay… yeah, thank you for telling me. I'll check in with her tonight.”

 

//

 

It's one hell of a distraction. Thursday goes by like a blur. 

Lincoln has your back at work, which you need, because you can't concentrate on the simplest of things. 

Bellamy is home for dinner. He makes sure to give Samuel a lot of attention and it does help a little to see Samuel smile again. Bellamy goes to bed as soon as Samuel is tucked in. You suspect it's him giving you the time you need to get your head straight. 

You worry about Clarke. You call her, but she's not answering. You know her schedule is packed this week, maybe she's gone to bed early. You send her a quick text instead, hoping she'll contact you tomorrow before the concert. 

Hearing her voice is all you really need right now. 

 

//

 

“Hey Gus, Linc said you were looking for me?”

“Yeah. The third treadmill is out of function again. I did my best, didn't work. You might wanna have someone come in a look at it.”

“Thanks, Gus. I’ll have it looked at. I think it might be time to invest in a new one, though,” you sigh, leaning your tired body against the front desk. “Anything else?”

“Someone’s here to see you, Troublemaker,” Gustus then says, winking at someone behind you. 

Spinning around, the first thing you see is Clarke's blue eyes smiling at you. They pull at you like magnets, pulling you forward into a hug. All your worries that have been stocked up these past few days are somehow gone. Clarke is here she's okay and you get to hold her. 

Never again will you allow for five days to pass without you seeing her. 

“I'm sorry I fell asleep on you last night,” she whispers. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say. While you would've loved to talk to her last night to make sure she's okay, you’re a much bigger fan of her being here right now. 

With your eyes closed, the kiss she places on your shoulder feels like a declaration of love, and you place one of your own against her hair. 

“How are you?” You need to know. You can't seem to shake off what Lincoln told you yesterday. 

“Better,” she hums, as if your hug fixed everything. Her optimism is admirable, but you're still concerned. 

“Lincoln told me about you and Raven’s punching session the other day.” That's your way of asking into it, not wanting to pry, she can tell you what she feels comfortable telling you. 

“Did he tell you about Finn?”

“He did. Are you okay?”

Clarke leans back to look at you, you miss her hug already. She says, “right this instance, yeah. I kind of need to focus on the show tonight. Can I tell you about it after? Tomorrow, maybe?” 

“Of course, whatever you need. Tell me if there’s anything I can do?” You don't want to pressure her. Also, you might have a few things you're not ready to talk about yourself. You understand the need to keep at your own pace. 

“Well, actually, now that you mention it,” Clarke says, pulling something out of her back pocket. 

It's your green tie, the one that looks really good hanging around Clarke's neck. She unfolds it, slowly, and for some reason you feel stuck in a trance just watching her. 

“This is your lucky tie, if I'm not mistaken,” Clarke says in that husky voice that makes you want to kiss her. 

Your eyes seem glued to her hands as they slide the tie around your neck. Her fingers brush against your neck, leaving goosebumps in their trail. She bites her lip as she ties the knot, and you kind of want to bite it a little too. You haven't seen her in _five days_ and you crave to be close to her. 

“Wear it tonight for me, Troublemaker,” she whispers, and you feel paralyzed as she presses her warm, soft lips against your jaw. 

You hear yourself mumble something, a yes, maybe, you're not sure. 

“See you later, Lex,” she says, taking a step back. The gentle smile on her lips a sharp contrast to her previously flirty behavior. 

All you can do is stand by, a flustered mess, as you watch her walk out the entrance door. 

“You're drooling,” Gustus says, as he walks by you. 

“Am not,” you mutter, touching a finger to your lips to make sure he isn't right.


	20. If I Jump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you!
> 
> It's time for the music festival gig.  
> I hope you like it <3
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### CLARKE

Searching the area in front of the main stage – situated in the park to accommodate a big crowd – you find them seated at a picnic table near the food trucks: Lexa, Samuel and Bellamy. Everything is ready for the concert to begin in thirty minutes, so you decide to sneak off for a few minutes. While you saw Lexa earlier today, you haven't seen Samuel since Sunday, and you really, really miss him. Both of them.

You try to sneak up on them, but with no such luck. Samuel spots you immediately and runs towards you. He hugs your legs and you ruffle his hair. It surprises you just how much you've actually missed the kid. If you had the time, you'd sit down and ask him about the cool things he’s done during the week. 

“Wow, look at you! Handsome Sam!” You pinch the fabric of his white shirt earning a proud grin. He’s wearing his blue tie as well, and when you look up, you notice Lexa is wearing the same thing: white shirt and her green tie. 

“Clarke, look!” Samuel fumbles for a while with one of his shirt buttons, but when he finally has it, he pulls the shirt open just enough for you to see the Superman symbol on his stomach. He looks like a cute little Clark Kent – the only thing missing is a pair of glasses. 

“Nice,” you grin at him. You can't wait for him to see that you're wearing the Superman T-shirt on stage tonight. 

The two of you walk, hand in hand, back to the picnic table. You take a seat next to Lexa while Samuel sits down next to Bellamy. 

“Hey,” you say, leaning in to kiss that bright smile of hers. 

Her hand rests on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze, and you wish you could stay right here for the rest of the evening. 

“New dress code?” Bellamy asks. 

“What? Oh, the hoodie?” You give yourself a once over, “No, my outfit is a secret until I get on stage,” you explain. “Look out for me, Sam, I think you're gonna like it.” you wink at Samuel, receiving a look of confusion and curiosity. 

“What are you up to, SuperGirl.” Lexa narrows her eyes at you. 

“It's a secret, Troublemaker. According to O, you're gonna like it too.” You give her one of those seductively raised eyebrows you know works on her before standing back up. 

“I'm glad you're all here, and I wish I could stay longer, but I need to go get ready. See you after, okay?” You nod at Bellamy, smile at Samuel and give Lexa one last kiss before going backstage. 

Octavia is air drumming as she walks about the backstage area – a fenced area behind the main stage. She tiptoes like a mischievous elf towards you and starts drumming on your shoulders. You swat the drumsticks away and she smacks one of them against your ass. It earns an explosion of laughter from Raven, you hear them high-five behind you as you pull off your hoodie.

“Ready?” Monty slides on his sunglasses. 

“Oh yes!” You grin, sliding on the borrowed leather jacket. It's heavy on your shoulders, but your heart feels lighter. 

Yeah, you're ready. 

Lincoln and Raven plays silent scales on their non-plugged instruments while you do your warm-up vocal routine. 

A festival official tells you to get ready, you've got two minutes. Monty calls for a group hug. His casual “alright, bitches, let's do this” earns him a drumstick smack to his ass from Octavia and a high five from Raven. 

Being last in the row, you watch your band buddies walk on stage, one by one, to take up their position. 

Octavia drills out that commanding beat of hers. You hear the crowd, their cheers are loud and full of anticipation. You can't wait to give them what they're here for – you aim to exceed their expectations. 

Raven’s taunting bass joins in. The deep electric rumble vibrates in your bones. It calls for attention and Lincoln's guitar riffs never disappoint. 

You hear the _swoooosh_ of the smoke machine, you watch it fill the stage with a thick fog. 

That's your cue. 

Monty’s synthesizer gives you that sass you need to walk onto the stage. The smoke is everywhere, and you take your position in the middle, your back to the crowd. While you wait for the smoke to dissolve, you shake out all the jitters. You lean your head back, give your loose hair a little shake, too. 

The crowd explodes, you assume they've seen you. Raven and Lincoln takes a stand on each side of you, and as Octavia breaks to a halt, you let your voice fill the void. 

Everything explodes. Lights, music, your heart. Nothing else exists but the electricity that shoots through your veins. 

It's beyond your wildest imagination. There are _a lot_ of people in front of the stage. Maybe five times the size of your latest crowd, but really, it could be more. You do that cocky thing that crowds love, standing on the edge of the stage, your mic loosely hanging from one hand, the other hand pointing out onto the crowd. 

“We are _The Fever_ , and we won't leave this stage until you’ve caught the fever too. Are you ready?” You underplay it, you flirt with the audience. 

They roar.

You want more. 

“I said. Are. You. READY!!?”

There it is. They're boiling. Hands are moving in waves in front of you. It's a beautiful sight. It's a deafening thunder that reaches you. 

You, the band, the crowd. You're all in sync. Time flies by, songs are delivered, you watch dusk roll in on the horizon, and for the briefest of moments your mind wanders to Samuel who's up late to see the show. 

Which reminds you…

You signal the others to keep the groove going, then you confront the crowd. 

“I have a good friend in the crowd today,” you tell them. “His name is Samuel, he's the coolest guy I know and he gave me this shirt.” You unzip the leather jacket to reveal the Superman T-shirt. 

You saunter along the edge of the stage. “He says it keeps me safe, and there's something I've always been afraid to do. If I jump, will you catch me?” 

You don't need to ask the crowd twice. They're there. The crowd in front of you are already lifting their hands. You place the mic on the floor, you shimmy out of the jacket, you take in the crowd. The gap is only a couple of feet, but you still need to jump. You take a few steps back, you need the run-up. 

There's only one thing that scares you more than this. If you come out of this without an injury, you’re going to tell Lexa you love her. If you do _that_ , you can do anything. 

With a racing heart, you push forward.

The crowd is still there. 

You float through the air, across the gap. There's a moment of regret, the fear of not jumping far enough, of hitting the ground instead of being caught. With the bass in your body and the crowd in your ears, you feel them, hands, many of them, catching you, moving you forward. 

It's feels like riding a wave. It's unsteady, but so, so powerful. Now you’ve got a taste of it, you could do it forever 

“Clarke, get your fine ass back here! We need to get this party going!” Raven yells into a mic. 

Hands against your back, they carry you to the stage. You wish you could stay a bit longer, but Raven is right. You high-five a couple of first-rowers before jumping back onto the stage. 

Picking up your mic again, Lincoln and Raven frames you with their backs up against you. It's time for your last song of the night. 

You don't want it to end, but Monty strikes the first chord, so all you can do is give it everything you've got and enjoy it while it lasts. 

You're not usually one to curse, but fuck yeah, you enjoy it.

__________

#### LEXA

As Clarke emerges from the cloud of smoke and the crowd explodes, your heart swells with pride. That's your girlfriend up there, kicking ass and being a smoking hot goddess. The last time you saw her on a stage, you didn't know her name. It makes your heart race thinking that you now get to call her yours. 

The leather jacket suits Clarke. A lot. Holy smokes. You have a thing for dresses and leather jackets. Your favorite thing is Clarke in either of them. 

You and Bellamy found a nice spot at the edge of the crowd, Samuel is on Bellamy's shoulders. Except from his uncle, all his heroes are on that stage right now. Samuel smiles from ear to ear, drumming his hands against Bellamy's head. Seeing him like this, you don't care if he's going to be the tired, unreasonable five-year-old tomorrow. It's worth it. 

For every word Clarke sings – for every talented, raspy note – you forget you're mad at Bellamy. In this moment, he's your best friend, your brother, Samuel's uncle and the guy who’s to blame for your first run-in with Clarke. For some reason, this moment makes you kind of sentimental. 

Being mad at Bellamy, hating Anya, none of it makes sense right now. You want to just be grateful for what you have. 

When Clarke sends a greeting to Samuel from the stage, you feel like you can never be grateful enough. No matter how hard you try. 

“Mama!” Samuel yells. “Look!“

You watch Samuel excitedly point towards the stage. Clarke is wearing the Superman T-shirt underneath her leather jacket, and if that doesn't make her even more gorgeous, you don't know what does. 

Your heart stops beating as she jumps out into the crowd. Your first instinct is to run through to crowd to get to her, to make sure she's safe. Your second instinct is to find her and yell at her for doing something so reckless, but the smile she's wearing as the crowd carries her forward is something you don't ever want to take from her. She looks happy and so full of life.

She looks as happy as you feel. 

The rest of the concert passes by in a blur. The crowd dissolves slowly, and Samuel jumps around you and Bellamy pretending to play the guitar; just like Lincoln. 

“Thank you, Bell,” you say. Your mind seems to have changed the subject. 

“What for?” He has been very cautious around you the past couple of days. 

“I understand why you didn't tell me,” you say. It doesn't really answer his question, but it's what you needed to tell him. You're grateful for everything he's done for you, even though you're hard to deal with sometimes. 

“I wish I had, though,” he says.

You believe him. That's the thing about Bellamy. He might do stupid things – rash decisions that might seem right in the moment but are so, so wrong – but they're always done with the intention of keeping his family safe. 

“How is she?” 

“Anya?”

“Mhm.”

“She's good. She, uhm, she blamed herself too… She never went back to work… but she's good now.”

You nod, blink, swallow. “I'm glad she has you.” 

Out of nowhere, Octavia jumps onto Bellamy's back. It puts a sudden stop to the emotions that are about to burst out of you. 

You love watching Bellamy’s proud smile when he looks at Octavia, but your attention is soon caught by Samuel yelling Clarke's name. 

You turn around and you're pretty sure the world stops spinning. Clarke has already caught Samuel in a hug, and she looks up at you, her dimples shining like stars. 

She walks towards you, smiling at you, Samuel's hand in hers. Your heart sighs as she stops in front of you. 

“So…” She says, a playful tone. 

“So…” You copy her. 

The depths of Clarke's eyes suck you in. You vaguely register Octavia pulling Samuel's attention away from you, but it's soon forgotten as Clarke pulls you closer by your tie. 

“This,” you say, giving the corner of the leather jacket a tug, “I like this.”

“O said you would,” she smirks. 

“Mhm. Also, this.” You give the Superman T-shirt a tug, too. “I really like this.”

Clarke's eyes shimmer. They shift between yours, they tell you things you don't know how to explain with words, but it feels grand and important. 

So you kiss her. 

It's that magnetic force pulling you in again. It seems to happen around Clarke a lot. 

Her eyes still shimmer when you pull back, her dimples a shade of shy. 

“I love you.” 

It just… It falls out of your mouth. You hold your breath. You mean it. With every fiber in your body, you love her, but you weren't supposed to say it out loud. Not yet. 

Then Clarke's smile shimmers too. “I love you too,” she says, cupping your cheeks to pull you back into a kiss. 

“Rae, they're doing it again,” Octavia teases, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Oh, come on,” Clarke groans against your lips. 

“We'll pick this up later,” you promise her, stealing one last peck. 

It's getting late and you need to take Samuel home. You tell Clarke she should go out to celebrate with the others, but she insists to go home with you and Samuel. She misses you too much – the both of you – she says, entwining her fingers with yours. You miss her too, so you don't have it in you to resist her.

As you're about to leave, you see a familiar face. 

“Anya!” Bellamy moves to greet her in a hug. 

“Hey, Bell. I saw you and thought I'd come say hi.” Anya then looks at you and says, “I won't stay. I just wanted to tell you guys that you did a great job. You've come a long way.” Anya's eyes meet each and every one form the band. 

Octavia always looked up to Anya; she's every bit the badass Octavia wishes to be. As they meet in a hug, you wonder if Octavia has been keeping in touch with Anya, too, or if this is a reunion. It breaks your heart thinking it might be the latter. You don't want to be the cause of people losing friends, so you make yourself a promise to try and clear things out between you and Anya. You owe it to all of them. You owe it to Costia. 

“Anya, here you go… Oh.” Finn emerges from the crowd with a beer in each hand. He freezes as he meets your eyes. 

“Thanks,” Anya says, taking one beer from her. “Finn, let me introduce you, they're old friends of mine.”

A lot of things happen in that moment. Next to you, Bellamy mutters, “shit.” Clarke’s hand tenses in yours. Raven pushes forward, but Lincoln is there pushing her back. 

The anger builds inside you. You do your best to not let it show, you don't want Samuel to get scared again. 

“Uh, I'm sorry,” Finn says, taking a step back. “I'm gonna… I’ll leave. I'm sorry.” He spins around and walks back into the crowd. 

“I gotta go after him,” Anya says. The concern in her eyes puzzles you. A lot of things don't make sense. How does Anya know Finn? 

“He knows Anya too?” Octavia asks. 

“I, uh…” Bellamy looks at you with wide eyes, then Octavia, then Clarke. His eyes stay upon Clarke until Clarke sighs. 

“The day I went and talked to him, he was so broken. Bellamy said he might be able to help him and I told him to do it as long as he kept me, Rae, you and Sam out of it.” Clarke's explanation is directed towards you. Maybe you aren't as calm as you think you are. 

“This is what Anya does,” Bellamy explains. “She introduces these guys to the neighborhood and mentors them until they find a routine they can hold on to. Look, I didn't know she'd take him under his wing, alright? I thought she might know someone to help him where he lives.”

“He lives here.” Raven says. 

“What?” Bellamy looks confused. 

“He bought a place here meant for him and Clarke,” Raven says. You can tell she's trying really hard to keep her voice down. 

You knew that he moved here, but you didn't know about the place for Clarke. You look at her, she looks uncomfortable. You don't blame her. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.” Bellamy looks crushed. He looks at you. “I'm sorry,” he repeats. 

He's apologizing for everything that has happened this past week. You're not fully ready to forgive him for all of it yet. You're not in the right mindset for this right now. 

“We'll talk tomorrow, Bell. Okay?” You wait for him to nod his agreement. 

“Clarke, come on, let's go home.” You squeeze her hand, she nods too.

 

//

 

Samuel fights really hard to stay awake. Like you, he doesn’t want to miss out on valuable Clarke time. It’s way past his bedtime, but he looks at Clarke with his puppy eyes and asks her if she wants to read him a bedtime story. Neither you nor Clarke have it in you to say no. 

In his exhausted state, you help him brush his teeth and put on his pj’s. Clarke tells you to get ready for bed, that she has this covered. She leaves a soft kiss on your cheek and it awakens the butterflies in your stomach. As she joins Samuel in his room, you go to brush your teeth. The girl in the mirror looks happy. You think, perhaps, her eyes shimmer – just like Clarke’s – and it looks really good on her. 

It makes you smile.

The girl in the mirror grins like a fool back at you.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your room. Passing by Samuel’s bedroom door, you stop to listen to Clarke’s hushed voice. She’s not reading a story, but rather telling Samuel about the animals at the zoo. 

“Are the baby goats still there?” 

“Yes. Although they’re bigger now.”

“How big?”

“Like this.”

You picture Clarke holding up her hands to indicate the size of a grown baby goat, Samuel looking at her with wide eyes. It takes all your strength not to interrupt their bonding time.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Can you teach me to fly?”

It’s almost unbearable. You stand behind the halfway shut door listening to Clarke’s soft laughter, and all you want to do is go in there and watch them. 

“Mh, I think so, but you need to be a lot taller, Sam. As tall as me,” Clarke says, and when Samuel replies with an awestruck, “okay,” you decide you’ve eavesdropped enough. 

Tiptoeing to your room feels a lot like flying. You stop by the pinboard to look at your family photos. Having Costia here seems a long time ago, almost like another lifetime. Your eyes slide to the most recent addition: the photo of Clarke and Samuel at the penguin basin. Samuel looks happy. Genuinely happy. Losing Costia was hard on him. Months passed before he stopped asking when Mom would be home. It warms your heart to see that he has something in his life that makes him this happy.

You stand there transfixed by your past and your present, you don’t notice Clarke entering your room until she snakes her arms around your waist and kisses you between your shoulderblades. 

“He’s asleep,” she murmurs against the fabric of your tank top.

“Already?”

“Mhm. He asked about what we feed the animals and while I was talking he just… dozed off,” she chuckles.

“You bored him to sleep!” You mock gasp. 

She pinches your buttcheek, and you turn around with the intention of… well, staring at her wasn't it, but it's what happens. 

She smiles at you. Her eyes still shimmer. “I love you,” she says, and it takes your breath away. Your voice, too.

Your reply is a hand to brush her hair behind one ear, a thumb to dance along her cheekbone. You try your best to find your voice, you think you manage to whisper those three words back. Just in case, you make sure to tell her in a kiss. The way she grips your tank top to pull you closer is a good indication that you succeeded. 

The way she kisses you leaves you without any doubt. 

Irrevocably. 

“Are you okay, Clarke?” You whisper.

“Yes.”

What she really means is, she wants to stay in this bubble of blissful ignorance for the night. Then tomorrow, she'll be strong enough to face her demons. 

She gave you a free pass once, you're happy to return the favor. 

Without breaking the kiss, blindfolded by sudden urgency, you stumble towards your bed. As she falls backwards, pulling you awkwardly down with her, you can't help but think that, even in a clumsy state, Clarke is elegance. She's gorgeous as she lies there underneath you, her hands already on a desperate mission of ridding you of your clothes. 

You catch her eyes, she starts laughing. Not loud, just… soundly, her body vibrating against yours. You press your lips against her throat, feeling the tremors there. You love this version of Clarke, exuberant and carefree. 

Her laughter dies down as you press a kiss against a dimple. God, you love those dimples. You love those shimmering eyes, too. The way she holds your gaze as she rids you of your tank top. They way her fingers skate down your back, causing your body to mold her against hers. 

The way you can't remember how you both ended up naked, but you don't care because you're both _naked_. The entirety of Clarke's soft skin against yours is overwhelming and not enough. 

Everything Clarke gives you, you crave. You hope that what you have to offer her in return is enough. 

Nails gently scraping against skin, you find yourself in a floating state. Clarke underneath you, Clarke on top of you. She's _inside_ you, the blood in your veins, the beat of your heart, the burning of your skin, the shivers down your spine.

You are Clarke, and Clarke is you. 

You don't know what's real anymore. 

It doesn't matter, because her eyes shimmer.

She's the air in your lungs. No, she _steals_ the air in your lungs. It's getting harder to breathe. Clarke is gasping for air, too. Every fiber in your body is burning, Clarke's sweat-soaked skin against yours. 

You cling to her. No, she clings to you. It hurts so bad, the way you press into her but need to be _even closer_. It hurts beautifully. 

You crave this pain, too, the explosion that _finally_ breaks down the last shred of a veil between you. You and Clarke, you become an entity. Irrevocably.

__________

#### SAMUEL

Uncle Bellamy wakes you up. You want to go wake up Mama and Clarke, but Uncle Bellamy says he needs your help to make SuperPancakes. 

It's fun to make SuperPancakes with Uncle Bellamy. He lets you crack the eggs on the edge of the bowl, and he doesn't yell at you if you drop one on the floor. It happens sometimes. You don't mean to, but the eggs are sometimes really hard to hold onto. 

“Okay, show me those muscles,” Uncle Bellamy says.

You lift your arms and he pokes your arm muscle and says, “Good. You need muscles for this, SuperBoy.”

He hands you a… you don't know what it's called, but you use it in the bowl to mix the eggs with everything else. 

“Whip, whip, whip,” Uncle Bellamy says, “good job!”

It hurts in your arm, but Uncle Bellamy says you're doing it right. It must mean you're really strong. 

“Uncle Bellamy? I think I need a break.” Your arm really hurts a lot. 

“It's okay, buddy, you did a good job. I think it's time to wake up Mama and Clarke if you want.”

“Now?” 

“Yep. You up for it?”

“Uh yes. I'll wake them,” you tell him, already running towards her room.

You really like waking up Mama. Sometimes you snuggle under her sheets and sometimes you play tickle monster. It's even more fun waking up Clarke. She likes your jokes and she helps you when you tickle Mama. 

You open the door to her bedroom and runs to her bed. They’re already awake. 

“Oh. Hey, Sam,” Mama says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, as you crawl onto the bed. “Me and Uncle Bellamy made pancakes.”

“I could totally eat pancakes right now. Do you think he'll make me one with a Superman sign too?” Clarke asks. 

You nod. You're very sure that she can have one too. You are a little sad they were already awake, but it's okay, because Clarke ruffles your hair, and you made pancakes for her and Mama.

Today is a good day.


	21. Will You Catch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, you guys... Just... <3
> 
> Not for the first time in my ao3 'career' am I becoming a sentimental fool; after this, only three more chapters... *sigh*
> 
> I'm happy you guys liked the festival chapter. I hope you'll like this one too. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

Reality doesn’t exist. That’s what it feels like cuddling up to Clarke on your couch. This Saturday afternoon is warm and soft. _Tremendous_. It’s easy to forget the things that have been running through your mind this week. You wonder if it’s easy for Clarke to forget her troubles, too. 

Happy Samuel became a tired, unreasonable Samuel around lunchtime. Last night’s staying up late for the concert showed its ugly face when you asked him to clean up the water he spilled. Bellamy is out for the day, and Samuel took it out on you – because that's what five-year-olds do. You wanted to tell Clarke to go home – not because you wanted her to leave, but because she shouldn’t feel obliged to witness the havoc Samuel is able to cause. Between Samuel ignoring you and Samuel crying and screaming, Clarke picked up a piece of paper and started drawing animals. Eventually, Samuel got curious and sat down next to her. He stopped crying and started asking questions about the animals she was drawing instead. It’s beyond you how that turned into Clarke tugging Samuel in for a nap.

You don’t deserve Clarke Griffin.

“Thank you for staying,” you say.

“Thank you for not kicking me out,” she responds. 

Clarke is lying on her back on the couch, and you've wedged yourself between her and the cushions, your head on her stomach, your legs entangled. The rise and fall of her lungs feels like a lullaby. She combs her fingers through your hair, and you fight to stay awake – not because you don't want to sleep, but because you want to stay awake for this. 

“Lexa?” She whispers. 

“Mhm?” 

“I once told Finn I dreamt of a house with a backyard and a dog.” 

The sadness in her voice pains you. It sounds like she's given up on that dream, and you hate Finn for doing that to her.

“Is that what happened? He bought a backyard and a dog?” You shift onto your elbow to better look at her. 

“That's what Rae says.”

“You can still have it, you know.”

She nods. It's heavy and hesitant. Her eyes flutter out of focus and she drops her head back. She _wants*_ to believe you. 

“Did you have the dream before you met Finn, or was it something being with him created?”

“Before,” she sighs. “Me and my dad always wanted a dog. He wanted to name it Billie, after Billie Holiday…”

She trails off. You understand the issue now. Her dream is connected to her belated dad. Finn pulling this stunt is disrespectful to his memory. You don't need to ask her to know Finn called the dog Billie. While you're sure he only bought the backyard and the dog to give Clarke her dream, you also know that it only makes him being here worse. 

She interrupts your thinking. 

“I think it's hurting Rae more than me.”

“How so?”

“It's a hunch. Finn is here basically rubbing it in her face that he chose me over her.” Clarke tilts her head back up to look at you. 

“You think it affects her more than she lets on?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I don't know her well enough. I just…” 

She trails off again. That crease between her eyebrows is the bad kind. You’re good at reading Clarke's emotions, you've learned – an intuitive force. Right now it's telling you she blames herself. 

“It's not your fault,” you tell her.

“He's back in her life because of me.”

“No. He's in this city because he decided to make a rash decision of moving here before talking to you. He's not back in her life unless she lets him in.”

“But he's here.”

“Yes. But it's not your fault. And we're all here to support you and Rae. Okay? If either of you needs help dealing with him, we're all behind you.”

She nods. Still hesitant. 

“Not that I think you need it. I've seen you punch, and according to Lincoln, Rae knows how to punch too.” You give her a playful look. 

You receive a soft smile in return. 

“You can still have your dream, Clarke. If you still want it, you can have it.” They're meant as encouraging words, but as they slip from your lips, they feel an awful lot like a promise. No, stronger. A vow. 

She nods again, then shuffles down the couch to kiss you. Her body against yours feels like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. 

“I can't believe you're spending your Saturday with my unreasonable five-year-old and a tired me.”

“I like your unreasonable five-year-old,” she hums. “You're okay too, I guess.”

The way she grins at you when she teases you makes your heart flutter. 

“I really like it here. It's nice and warm,” she then says. 

The way Clarke's eyes shimmer is something you could get used to. In fact, it's something you've become quite addicted to already. 

As you're about to kiss Clarke again, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. “Mmhno,” you mumble, a weak complaint. Clarke chuckles and tells you to take a look at it. You don't want to; you’re ninety percent sure it's either Bellamy telling you something you don't feel like dealing with right now, or work needing you to come in to handle some disastrous catastrophe . 

“Fine,” you grumble, reaching for the phone. With Clarke's lips against your cheek, you learn it's neither Bellamy nor work. 

**Anya:**  
_Hey Lexa. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I feel terrible about yesterday (I understand you already know Finn?), and I really want to explain the situation to you. If you'll let me, you know how to contact me. -Anya_

“Everything okay?” Clarke’s concerned voice feels like a safety net. 

“It's Anya.”

“Oh? Is _she_ okay?” 

You stare at the screen until it turns black. You keep staring until Clarke's hand cups your jaw, brushing her thumb against your cheek. Her bright blue eyes are full of concern, too. 

Unable to fully grasp what's going on inside your mind, you let her read the text herself. Her frown is a thoughtful one.

“Do you want her explanation?” She asks. 

“I… I don't know…”

“Wanna tell me what's going on inside that beautiful mind of yours?”

The thing is, your mind feels frozen. You know you're supposed to have an opinion on the matter, but you can't seem to pinpoint it. It's… Everything is upside down. Bellamy lying to you, seeing Anya twice this past week, learning that Finn moved here, telling Clarke you love her, Clarke saying it back. It's like your mind has decided that your life has changed so drastically that it needs a new set of rules to live by.

Tear down the brick walls, rebuild. 

“I want to talk to her.” The words slip. They taste of truth. 

With a soft smile, Clarke hands you back your phone. 

“Do you want to come with me?” You ask, an idea forming in your head. 

“Of course. If you want me there.”

“There's something I want to show you, and I was thinking you could do me a favor and entertain Sam while I talked to Anya.”

“Whatever you need, Lex.”

“You sure?”

“I am.” 

Clarke’s definitive nod ends the discussion. You text Anya back asking her to meet you at Aero-Dog in two hours – Samuel should be awake by then – and she immediately confirms she'll be there. 

 

//

 

End of summer is approaching. The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, and the wind is cool against your skin the second you step out of your car. Anya is already there, her ass ruthlessly seated on a picnic table, her feet on the bench. The familiarity tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“I see your table manners haven't improved,” you call out. 

“Lexa Woods,” she looks at you, confidence in her smile. “Always the puritan.”

Clarke scoffs next to you. You roll your eyes at both of them. You don't have to explain yourself. It's true, though; you used to have quite the set of standards, but then you met Costia. She made you break a rule or two during the years; you wouldn't want it any other way. 

“I like you already. I'm Anya,” she says, sliding off the picnic table to meet Clarke in a handshake. 

“I'm Clarke.”

“And who do we have here. Hello, Sam. I don't know if you remember me, but the last time I saw you, you were this high.” Anya kneels in front of Samuel, holding out a hand to visualize just how tiny he was back then. 

Two years. Almost. Guilt washes over you. Anya loves Samuel; he's her best friend's kid. You hate yourself for keeping them apart; it feels like you betrayed Costia somehow. 

“Nice to meet you, I'm Samuel,” he says, holding out a hand to shake Anya's. 

While his formal manner always melts your heart, this time it's bittersweet. It means he doesn't remember Anya. The ache in Anya's eyes adds to the sum of guilt washing over you. 

You hope it isn't too late to fix it. 

“Clarke! Look!” Samuel points towards the airplane currently touching down onto the ground. 

“I see it, Sam. You like airplanes?”

He nods excitedly. You take advantage of the break between incoming airplanes to explain to him that he needs to do what Clarke tells him to do, and that you'll be right back. 

He's too busy watching the sky to really care about what you tell him. Clarke places a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek and says, “I've got this. Don't worry.”

Silence is your companion as you and Anya start walking. It's not uncomfortable, just… thoughtful. 

“You look good, happy,” Anya says, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes on the horizon. 

“You too.” She does. She hasn't changed one bit. Her fashionably worn out black jeans, the leather jacket. You wouldn't be surprised if she’d come out here on her motorcycle. 

“Look, I'm sorry about Friday,” Anya says. “I d–”

“Don't worry about it.” You interrupt her, it's not why you're here. 

She looks confused. 

“As long as Finn stays away from Clarke and Raven, there won't be a problem,” you tell her.

“He knows both of them?”

“Didn't he tell you?”

“He only mentioned Clarke.” Silence. “What aren't you telling me.”

Anya stops in her tracks. You do too. Something tells you she knows nothing of the things Finn did to them. 

“He cheated on Raven with Clarke. Neither of them knew about it.” You take a deep breath. “He hit Clarke.”

“Goddammit,” Anya mutters. “I'm sorry. If I'd known I would've definitely not taken him to the concert.” 

She starts walking again, more forcefully. She stops and turns to look at you. “He told me he had anger issues. That's all. These men coming to us, they're all troubled. I'm paid to not judge them because of their past, the violence they've caused in the name of this country...” 

“I know.” 

Her gaze drops to the ground. She nods, it morphs into a shake of the head. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“I didn't come to talk about Finn.” You walk up to her, continue past her. The scuffling behind you lets you know she’s following you. You continue walking until you reach the tree stubs and the fire pit. You take a seat, she joins you. 

Silence. It's a peculiar thing, the way it cuts through bone and marrow. You know she’s waiting for you to continue, for you to explain yourself. 

“I brought Sam here a couple of days ago. I haven't been here since Costia died.” It still hurts saying out loud. “It forced me to look back in time, and I realized a lot of things have changed, that I've been stubbornly blind.”

Anya avoids your gaze. It's not like her to waver. Perhaps talking about Costia hurts her too. 

“I don't mourn Costia anymore. I miss her, yes, but she belongs to a past version of me. I… You know how much Sam looks like Costia…”

“He does.” Anya smiles. A sad reminiscence. 

“He sometimes does this tiny, gentle smile. He picked that up from Clarke. I’ve tried so hard to keep Costia alive for him, and it turns out he just needs someone to make him smile.”

“He's young, Lexa. Children live in the presence.”

“I know. It still hurts though.”

“Mhm,” Anya agrees. 

“I want to apologize for my behavior. I haven't been fair to you.” This is what you came here to do. There are so many things you want to tell Anya – most of all, that you don't deserve her forgiveness – but it's all stuck in your throat. 

“Hey,” she puts a hand on your back, and you slide into her sideways hug. “I promised Costia to keep you safe when she wasn't here. If hating me makes you feel better, then I'll let you hate me.”

“I don't hate you. I never did.” The sob in your voice makes you realize you’re crying. 

“I know,” she whispers. She holds you until you stop crying. 

“I don't deserve your forgiveness.”

“You don't get to decide that.”

Silence is your companion as you watch another airplane arrive. “I've missed you,” you confess. 

“I've missed you too.” She gives your shoulders a squeeze. “Does that mean you’re talking to me again?”

“If you'll allow it.”

She nods, then states, “So… Clarke.”

“What about Clarke?” Just saying her name makes you smile. 

“I like her.”

“Me too.”

“You love her?”

“I do.” You sigh. Images of Clarke's shimmering eyes flash through your mind. 

“Okay. Let's go back. I want to talk to her,” Anya says, getting up. 

“Anya,” you warn. You know what that implies.

“Relax. I just want to get to know her.” She starts walking, leaving you to run after her to catch up.

__________

#### CLARKE

Being alone with Samuel in a public place makes you nervous. He's an easy kid, but you still don't know him that well. If something happened, if he suddenly got sad, you honestly wouldn't know how to go about it. 

All your fears aside, you're having a good time. You're seated by a picnic table facing the horizon. Samuel is staring at incoming airplanes with his mouth hanging open, while you're staring at him. 

“Cool,” he whispers, as the airplane touches the ground. 

It makes you smile. He does a lot of little things that make you smile, your favorite being the way he explodes with laughter when the two of you attack Lexa with tickles – the way he can't contain his excitement. 

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, Sam?” You look at him. You know he has Costia's eyes, but the thoughtfulness in them is pure Lexa. 

“Are you my new mom?”

That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. It ignites a mixture of panic and warmth within you. While the thought of being considered someone's mom makes you nervous – you never really considered yourself mom material – you also know that being with Lexa naturally places you in a role that is similar to one. 

“No, I'm not. You already have a mom, Sam. But I would love to be your friend. How does that sound?”

You watch his eyes fall to his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He sucks on his bottom lip, and you're afraid he's going to cry. You don't know if your approach is the right one, but you know it's important to Lexa that no one takes the place of his mom. 

“She's not here,” he whispers. 

You shift to kneel in front of him; you've seen Lexa talk to him this way several times. There's a single tear sliding down his cheek and it's breaking your heart. 

“She's in here, though,” you tell him as you tap a finger on his chest.

Another tear. 

“I lost my dad,” you tell him, immediately cursing yourself for telling a five-year-old about your belated dad. It seems your mind is stuck on the idea, and you hear yourself say, “he was really cool. He played the guitar, just like Lincoln. He had blue eyes too. I miss him all the time. He's not here, but he will always be my dad.”

At that, Samuel looks at you. He listens to your story, you can tell. He doesn't hear the sad story about a daughter losing her dad, but he accepts the idea of a forever parent. 

“Wanna tell me about her? Your mom?” You reach up to wipe his tears away. No new ones appear. 

“She had blue eyes too,” he says. 

“Like yours, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“What else?”

“Mama says she liked airplanes,” he says, a tiny spark in his eyes. 

“That's cool. I know you like airplanes too. You see? She might not be here, but she's still a part of you.”

He nods. 

“I really want to be your friend, though. Is that okay?”

He nods again, a shade of a smile on his lips. 

“Awesome,” you say. “So, how about it Sam, you think it's time for a hotdog?”

“Uh, yes,” he says timidly.

As the two of you go to the food truck, relief washes over you. The way he clings to your hand breaks your heart. You can't imagine how hard it is for a kid his age to have lost a parent. A part of you is making a silent promise to make sure to always keep him safe. 

It's terrifies you. The panic still lives in your bones. He may not have used those exact words, but something you did makes him wonder if you’re his new mom. That means you and Lexa need to have another talk about you, the future and how to handle the delicate subject being Samuel. 

It's a strange feeling. The title scares you, but for this kid you'll gladly take on the responsibility. 

 

//

 

There's a smile on Lexa's lips as she and Anya return. You watch them out of the corner of your eye; Anya says something that makes Lexa push her sideways making both of them laugh. 

“So, Clarke.” Anya takes a seat in front of you, staring you down. “If you hurt her, I'm gonna do something I can't say out loud because Sam is here, but it doesn't make it any less true.” 

It sounds like a threat, looks like one, too. The magnitude of vagueness, however, makes you smile. 

“Anya,” Lexa sighs, taking a seat next to her. She looks at you with heaps of apologies. “Don't listen to her, Clarke.”

“Did you give Lexa the same talk?” You ask Anya. 

“I did. I threw a plastic cup at her too.” Anya says, giving you a pointed look to back up her threat. 

Lexa chuckles, the kind that reminisces old times. 

“Stop it. You're ruining my credibility,” Anya says, punching Lexa in the shoulder. Not hard, just enough to make a statement. It elicits a bright laughter from Lexa . That eventually has Anya smiling too.

It's a treat observing the two. You almost can't believe that Lexa wasn't talking to Anya a week ago. Their bond is so strong, it's admirable. 

“How did it go?” Lexa looks at you and nods towards Samuel. 

“We had a hotdog and watched airplanes for a while, didn't we, Sam?” The mom talk is something you've pocketed for later. Right now you're sharing a grin with Samuel as he responds with his usual “uh, yes.”

Time passes by fast. Anya asks you questions about everything and anything. While some of it isn't her business, you answer her truthfully and kindly. It's important to you that Lexa finds her way back to Anya. It's important to you that Anya likes you for the same reason. Mostly, you can tell she means well. She cares an awful lot about Lexa – Samuel, too – and that's one thing you have in common with her. 

Before returning home, Lexa invites Anya to Samuel's birthday party next weekend. Anya hesitates, but Lexa insists; despite everything, she's family too. There's a goodbye hug that ends with wet eyes on both of them. As Anya drives away on her motorcycle, Samuel whispers another “cool!” under his breath. 

“Come on, let's go home,” Lexa chuckles. 

It strikes you that Lexa is talking to you, too; that _home_ means the three of you going back to her place. It's a comforting thought. It makes you realize that Lexa is more a home to you than the four walls of your apartment. It's another reminder of the strong connection you share, but you can't help but wonder if maybe it's a sign that you've been moving too fast. 

The mom talk certainly doesn't help. 

 

//

 

It's nearly dinnertime, and you should go home, but Lexa tells you she'd love for you to stay, and your body aches every time you consider walking out the door. 

So you stay. 

 

//

 

The view from Lexa's kitchen window is spectacular tonight. Time is unimportant as you watch dusk swallow the day. It captivates you, and you're startled by arms sliding around your body and soft lips pressed against your shoulder. 

“Hey,” Lexa breathes. 

Her body feels warm against your back, you let her pull you closer.

“You okay?” She asks. 

“Mhm. Just… Thoughtful.”

“Something you wanna share?”

You let your head fall back against her shoulder, she presses her lips against your hair. It feels like a big deal, what you're about to say, but the comfort within Lexa's embrace makes it easy to take the leap. 

_If I jump, will you catch me?_

“Sam asked me if I'm his new mom.”

“Oh, uh… Today?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he… Did… What did you say?” 

“I told him he already has a mom, but I would love to be his friend.” 

You shift in her arms to face her. Her lips part as if she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. It happens a couple of times before she she frowns. 

“Is that okay?” You ask her. 

“Very,” she says. Her eyes roam your face, as if searching for something. “It's a good answer. How did he take it?”

“He was sad for a while. I think it's hard for him to understand she's still here, but not physically, you know? So I told him about my dad and how he's not here but will always be my dad. It made him feel better and he even agreed to be my friend. Then we had hotdogs.” 

You watch her carefully as you explain what happened. Her expression is a fluid hybrid of soft and nervous. It's hard to really tell what’s going on inside her mind. 

She nods.

Her eyes flutter shut, only to fly open again. 

She does that thing with her lips again, trying to speak but nothing happens. 

She wets her lips and swallows.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Uhm. First of all. Thank you for not freaking out… I mean, you're not... Are you?”

“No.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you admit, a sheepish smile forms on your lips. 

She kisses it off your lips and smiles back at you. “I'm freaking out too,” she says, biting her lip in a thought. “He smiles like you, did you know?”

“Who, Sam?” 

“Mhm. Sometimes. That soft smile you wear when you wake up in the morning.”

The knowledge makes your heart thud in your chest. It tugs at the corners of your lips. Not knowing how to respond, your mind settles on joking. “Are you saying my soft morning smile freaks you out?”

“No,” she chuckles. “The exact opposite. I love that lazy morning smile.” She leaves the sappy comment hanging in the air as she brushes a thumb along your bottom lip. “It means we spent the night together,” she says, her smirky half smile in place. 

You mean to respond with a sassy remark, but your lips have its own agenda. They seek out hers to steal a kiss but end up a mess of clashing smiles.

“Clarke,” she huffs, impatiently. 

“Yes, Lexa?” You steal another kiss.

“I… Uh… Okay.” She leans back to give you a pointed look – the stop distracting me look. 

You shrug. 

She goes on to finish what she wanted to tell you. She explains to you what Aero-Dog means to her. It's something that makes her emotional, you don't blame her. If you were to go back to your childhood home without your dad being there, you'd expect it to be the same. 

She's nervous as she explains to you how important you are to not only her, but Samuel too. She understands if it's too much to handle sometimes, but you shouldn't hesitate to tell her if that happens. You're perfect with Sam. Per-fect! He's lucky to have a friend like you. She throws in one of her careful, soft smiles and you want to kiss it, but she stops you. 

“My past and my present are not the same thing,” she says, a melancholic look on her face. “I think I'm beginning to realize it's like that for Sam too.”

Her gaze is _so intense_ , you don't know how to respond. To any of it. 

“This presence could become a really nice future, Clarke. I know we haven't known each other for that long, but I love you a great deal, and in his own kind of way, I think Samuel does too. I know–”

“–Lexa.”

“–it's a lot t–”

“–Lexa!”

“What?” She looks at you with wide eyes, holding a breath. 

“Shut up, you fool, and kiss me.”

“But–”

The fool won't stop rambling, so you shut her up by pulling her in. Between kisses and _I love you's_ you realize the panic is gone. It helps a great deal to know that Lexa is freaking out too. 

You're in this together. 

It's oddly comforting.


	22. Motherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> This chapter is (also) a bit of an oddball, but one I personally really like. It's short (compared to the rest), and for that I apologize - the last two chapters are twice the length, though. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying your Tuesday (or whatever day it is for you when you read this). Behind the scene I'm preparing the last two chapters for upload as well as the first chapter of my new magic AU (My Soul Alight). I'll add a little teaser on that (summary etc.) on my tumblr in a week's time. 
> 
> As for now... here's the aftermath of Samuel asking Clarke about being his new mom <3
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

On the day Samuel was born, your new life began. You thought you'd prepared yourself to the task of becoming a mother. You thought reading books and thinking about tiny little toes and cute little fingers and changing diapers and whatnot would do the trick. 

Boy, were you wrong. 

As you witnessed Costia in labor for seventeen hours, how much pain she was in pushing your child to the world, you realized she was already much stronger than you. You wanted to ease her off some of the pain, preferably all of it entirely, but she told you to shut the hell up and let her squeeze your hand, which you gladly allowed. While you may have feared the condition of your hand, it allowed you to at least share her pain. When you voiced that thought, she looked about ready to murder you. 

He was placed in her arms, still smeared in bloody goo, and she looked at him as if she already knew him. It wasn't until you got to hold him yourself you realized what exactly that meant. His eyes and his cute little nose were Costia's. Undeniably. You already did know him, yet, you didn't know him at all. 

“He looks like a Samuel,” Costia said. 

He felt like a Samuel in your arms, too. 

You soon realized that nothing could've prepared you for the magnitude of sleep deprivation having a newborn caused. Or the amount of fear and concern that grew within your body during his first fever. Never did you know how far your heart was able to expand to adjust to the heaps of love Costia and Samuel gave you. Never did you know just how much your own heart was able to love another human being until you met Samuel. 

No book ever written could’ve prepared you for the heartbreak of becoming a single parent, and the pain you felt every time a four-year-old Samuel cried for his Mom to come home. 

On Samuel's fifth birthday, a new tradition was born. Costia wouldn't be a part of it, and it shattered your already broken heart. All Samuel wanted was his Mom to come back, but it was the only thing you couldn't give him. It took more strength than you owned; it took the joined forces of Bellamy and Octavia, and most important of all, it took Mama Blake. She insisted that your only job was to make sure Samuel had his favorite shirt on while she took care of the rest. 

You’ve read thousands of words on being a mother, but it was Mama Blake's undivided love for you – her adoptive daughter – that taught you the true meaning of motherhood. 

Extending her duties as a mother to also include your son is something you'll never be able to repay her. Nevertheless, Mama Blake insisted on making it a new tradition, thus throwing Samuel a party for his sixth birthday as well. 

“She makes the best birthday cakes,” Samuel shares. 

“Are they better than SuperPancakes?” Clarke asks, juvenile excitement glowing in her eyes. 

“Uhm… yes,” Samuel hesitates. 

“The cakes are _that good_?” Clarke plays along. 

“Uh, yes. The best, Clarke,” he says, matter-of-factly. 

“I can't wait to taste them,” she says. 

You watch them from the doorway to the living room. You meant to tell Samuel it's time to go to bed, but his “goodnight, Clarke” turned into a chat about his birthday on Saturday and how good Mama Blake's cakes are. 

He's not lying. They _are_ the best. They made your parentless birthdays quite enjoyable, too. That's how good they are.

Their banter is a delight to watch. This common understanding of what's _cool_ and _the best_ must be a friend thing, not a mom and son thing. Although, there's no doubt in your mind that Clarke would interact like this with any child who puts its trust in her. Even her own children, were she to have any. 

Clarke would be a spectacular mom. Just like Costia, but entirely in her own way. 

“Time for bed.” Samuel's disappointment is your disappointment too, but you’d rather not deal with an unreasonable almost-six-year-old tomorrow.

“Sleep tight, Sam,” Clarke says, sharing one last conspiratorial smile with your kid. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Samuel says, an unavoidable pout on his lips as you tell him to get moving one last time.

__________

#### CLARKE

The sheets are soft and comfortable against your skin, Lexa's scent intoxicating. It's undeniable that you sleep much better in Lexa's bed. If you must be honest, you feel a little bit more at home here, too. 

You're not actually asleep. Maybe halfway. You've been thinking a lot about the mom thing lately. There's something irrevocable about Samuel’s words. No matter how hard you try to downplay it, the question still stands. Are you his new mom? Maybe not by title, but if what you and Lexa have is serious – you haven't had the talk yet, but it feels a whole lot like it’s serious – it's only a matter of time before you become a substitute of some sort. 

Images of kissing Lexa goodmorning every day and tugging Samuel in every night flood your mind. It feels safe, but it doesn't mean you aren't a little scared. Being a parent, even a substitute parent, means placing another human being’s needs before your own at any time. In those terms, your own mother was never much of a parent. She always put herself first letting your dad be the reliable one. You're terrified to have inherited that part of her; it's enough that you're stubborn like her and became a doctor of sorts, too. 

The bedroom door creaks open, then shut again. Soft footsteps pat across the floor. The mattress shifts as Lexa straddles your waist. You thought you felt comfortable before, but Lexa's warm hands massaging your shoulders take comfort to a whole new level. 

You feel… like jello. 

A sigh escapes your lips. 

“Better?” Lexa chuckles. 

“Much,” you say. It sounds more of an incoherent mumble than you meant for it to be. 

“Are you drooling?”

“...maybe.”

Lips graze your shoulder as she lays down next to you. Fingertips brush away hair from your face. 

“I love you,” she whispers, as if it's the world's most kept secret and she has chosen only you to share it with. 

For the first time since she entered the room, you open your eyes. She's only inches from you, her eyes soft and wide. Not many things steals your breath and stops your heart simultaneously, but the way Lexa looks at you right now takes the prize. 

All your fears for the future doesn't matter under her gaze. 

It's not just the safety she provides. It's the strength she gives you. You want to take risks that involves her because it's worth it. That means Samuel, too; he's so worth it, too. 

The easy part is saying you love her back. 

“Wanna talk about it?” She asks.

“About what? 

“About whatever you're thinking about right now.”

It's a train of thought, really. Something that moves entirely on its own. You didn't realize you were lost in thought until she pointed it out. 

“You have a thought crinkle,” Lexa says, kissing you between your eyebrows.

“I was thinking about my mom,” you admit. It escapes along with a sigh that should let Lexa know it isn't a pleasant though. “She wasn't the mom I needed, she was always away, and I kind of want to hate her for it. But then I think about you losing your parents and Sam losing his mom and I feel like a spoiled brat taking her for granted.”

You take in a sharp breath of air. “And I’m terrified of becoming like her, because Sam doesn't deserve that in his life.”

You also hate yourself for not being able to say these things without becoming an emotional mess. Tears threaten to flood your eyes, the back of your throat burns. 

Lexa looks at you, a soft smile on her lips, and you want to yell at her for being calm when there's a storm in your heart. 

“I never told anyone this, but there's a reason I wanted Sam to call me Mama,” she says, running her fingers through your hair. “Mama Blake isn't my biological mom, she doesn't hold that title, but she still treats me as if she does. Sam is Costia's blood, not mine, but that doesn't mean I'm going to love him any less. It holds sentimental value in its own way.”

“I've been thinking about it a lot,” Lexa continues. “Mom and Dad and Mama are titles. It's not what's really important. Your biological parents create you, yes, but what really matters, at least to me, is that you have people in your life committed to create a safe environment to raise you.”

Her eyes flutter shut, then she takes a deep breath. You observe her, you listen to her. She's not done talking. 

“Mama Blake kept me safe. I’d like to think I'm keeping Sam safe too. None of us are biologically related.”

A warm tear escapes the corner of your eye. You let it fall to be soaked up by the pillow. Everything Lexa tells you makes perfectly sense. It feels like she's giving you a lesson on life; a lesson you'll make sure to always remember.

“I…” Lexa pauses, her eyes flutter shut this time. “I'm just now realizing that Samuel just wants someone to keep him safe. He doesn't need Costia, he just needs someone t–”

She shifts into a sitting position, the abruptness startles you. “I'm sorry,” she mumbles, over and over again, somewhere between wiping her eyes and almost hyperventilating. 

You don't know who she's apologizing to: you, Costia or Samuel. Knowing her, it's probably all of you. 

Shifting to sit next to her, you pull her into you, you cradle her in your arms allowing her to come undone. She's strong for everyone else all the time. It's time she lets go and lets someone take care of her. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

She releases the death grip she has on your shirt only to melt into you instead. 

“Clarke?” Her voice is frail. 

“Mhm?” 

“You're not your mother. You already make Sam feel safe.” 

Lexa's words settle like a mantra in your mind. Maybe it's okay to just be a support in Sam's life and keep on what you're doing. Maybe that's enough. Maybe Lexa is right, that the title itself doesn't keep someone safe.

It feels like she's right.

It feels like one hell of a leap of faith to believe in her.

__________

#### BELLAMY

“Uncle Bellamy?” Samuel yawns, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Oh, hey buddy, you're up early. You hungry?” 

“Uh, yes,” he nods, rubbing his eyes with fists.

“Oatmeal?”

“Okay.”

Lexa is out on her morning run. She usually comes back before Samuel wakes up, but the few times she doesn't, you make sure the kid gets something to eat while waiting. 

“So, are you ready for your birthday tomorrow?” 

He nods excitedly, his mouth full of food. It's one of those rhetorical questions that are worth asking because his reaction is worth more than gold. You skim the newspaper while Samuel eats his breakfast. It's an easy morning. 

“Uncle Bellamy?” Samuel sounds like he’s thinking a lot. 

“What's up, buddy?”

“Can we have Boys’ Breakfast again soon?”

“Of course. Maybe next weekend? I'll find us a perfect day, alright?” 

“Okay,” he grins. 

You watch him as he scoops another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. As he chews, his grin morphs back into his thoughtfulness. One hand holding his head up, the spoon hanging lazily from the other. 

“Uncle Bellamy?” He looks at you, and for some reason the look in his eyes makes your heart break. 

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Can you have three moms?”

So much for an easy morning. You're his _uncle_. He's not supposed to ask _you_ these kind of questions. You panic a little, wishing for Lexa to come back from her run any second now. 

Aaany second now. No? Oh well. 

“Uhm, why do ask, Sam?”

His eyes fall to the bowl in front him. He looks like he's been scolded for doing something he's not allowed to. That wasn’t what you intended. You sort of just needed a little more context. It wouldn’t surprise you if he’s beginning to consider Clarke as someone in a role similar to a mother. 

“Sam?” You step around the table to kneel next to him. You slide his chair sideways so you can better look at him. “I like your question. It’s a good one,” you tell him. You don’t want him to feel bad for asking it. In fact, you feel kind of privileged that he trusts you with it.

His lower lip trembles. His eyes are glued to his hands in his lap. 

“I don’t know the answer, but maybe we can help each other figure it out?” 

You do know the answer. Yes, you can have many parents – moms, dads, doesn’t matter – but you’re not sure it’s the right answer to this question. You have to tread lightly because you know Lexa wants him to remember Costia as his mom. Also, you don’t know how Lexa and Clarke would feel about you referring to Clarke as his mom. Treading lightly isn’t your strongest suit, to be honest.

He looks at you, carefully, curiously. Good, it’s a start.

“Do you want three moms?” 

The way he doesn’t answer tells you he doesn’t know, or at least he doesn’t know what that implies. You can’t tell a kid to explain his feelings. You need to know the right question to ask so he can either confirm or deny. That’s the best approach, you’ve learned – with Samuel, at least. Okay, to hell with treading lightly. 

“Do you want Clarke to be your mom?”

“She says she’s my friend,” he says. 

Assuming he’s been having a mom-talk with Clarke, this all makes sense now.

“And you don’t believe her?”

“She hugs me like Mama.”

“And friends can’t hug you like that?”

No answer. Okay, too complicated.

“Look, Sam. I know for a fact that Clarke likes you a lot,” you say. 

He looks up at you, a soft smile on his lips. 

“A lot!” You repeat. “I also know that not everyone gets to call her a friend, so that must mean you're a pretty awesome kid.”

His smile is growing. We're getting somewhere. 

“Also, she loves the pancakes you make her.”

“She likes them with the Superman sign best,” he says, grinning. 

It's a good sign; it means a grave disaster has been avoided. For now, at least. You'll leave next round for Lexa to deal with. A part of you can't wait to tell her Samuel has been asking about three moms. It should make for a fun talk. You don't have to tread lightly with her, or, well, you're not going to.


	23. This Family, My People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the 2nd to last chapter?  
> (I don't I am... It means only one left...)
> 
> I won't say anything about this chapter. I just want you to enjoy it (I hope you do). 
> 
> Let me know what you think <3  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA

You sneak open the door to Samuel's bedroom, excited to wake him up on his sixth birthday. Six. Your kid is six years old. Where did time go? You remember the sleeping newborn in your arms like it was yesterday. 

Approaching his bed, you realize he isn't sleeping at all. He's hiding under his duvet, and you can tell by the way he's restlessly trying to lie still that he's been waiting for you to the wake him up – for his birthday to begin. 

“Happy birthday, Sam.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed. 

You have absolutely no idea what's going on inside his mind, but he seems to be enjoying himself as he slowly pulls the duvet down to reveal his face – first the top of his black curls, then his playful, dusty blue eyes, his freckled little nose and lastly, his wide, toothy smile. 

“Did you sleep well?”

He nods. 

“Ready for your birthday?”

“Uh, yes!” He squeals, kicking his feet in an outburst of excitement. 

“Alrighty then. Why don't you get out of bed and join me and Uncle Bellamy for birthday pancakes?”

“Is Clarke here?” He asks, as he kicks off the duvet. 

“No. We're picking her up on our way to Mama Blake's.” 

“Okay,” he says. Disappointment is clear in his otherwise excited voice. 

It brings your mind back to the talk you had with Bellamy last night. Apparently Samuel has gone from asking Clarke if she's his new mom to asking Bellamy about the probability of having three moms. In between Bellamy's teasing tone and your own little panic attack, it occurred to you that Samuel is a lot more perceptive than you thought he’d be in such a young age.

It's not that you spend oceans of time with Clarke. Far from it, actually. You definitely see her on Kids Gym Tuesdays, and then you spend a little time with her on weekends. She usually stays over, leaving the two of you with only a couple of private hours after Samuel goes to sleep. The thing is, she fits into your life as if she was made for it. She doesn't demand that you spend more time with her – _only_ her. She seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with Samuel. While you do wish you had more alone time with Clarke, you cherish the hours the three of you spend together. 

Clarke and Samuel fit together. It's simple as that. You don't blame Samuel for mistaking Clarke for his new mom. In fact, you've caught yourself having that very same thought a few times, too.

A part of you knows it's too soon. Another part of you hyperventilates over the prospect of Samuel letting go of Costia entirely. The rest of you wants Clarke in every way she'll allow it. 

As right as it feels, it's also a dangerous thing to encourage. You and Clarke’s relationship is still new. If things don't work out between the two of you, Samuel could potentially lose a second mom. It's not in the title, but their special bond. 

The three of you are already irrevocably tied together. Looking back on your short, but fast-paced history with Clarke, you realize it was inevitable. Samuel loved Clarke-like-Superman from the first day. You don't blame him. You sort of did, too. 

When you told Bellamy that, he stopped teasing you. It was as if he suddenly understood the graveness of the matter. He told you not to worry; that he could tell that Clarke needs Samuel as much as he needs her. And it's not just because they have you in common. Forcing a slower pace wouldn't change a thing, he insisted. Making sure to communicate with Clarke about it, however, would probably be a very good idea. 

You know he's right.

All you ever wanted was for Samuel to be safe. Now you sort of also want Clarke too. It _is_ possible to have both – the past couple of weeks are proof of that – so that's what you're going to focus on. 

 

//

 

Samuel insists he wants to wear his white shirt. It surprises you that he doesn't want his superman T-shirt, but he tells you he's a big boy now and big boys wear white shirts to a party. 

“In that case,” you tell him, “I have an early surprise for you.”

His eyes sparkle as you hand him one of his birthday presents. He unwraps it with excited fingers. “Cooool,” he whispers under his breath as he holds up the pair of Superman suspenders. 

“You can wear them today if you want. They're big boys suspenders,” you wink at him. 

He nods. You love how he always loses his words when he's suddenly excited. A part of you can't wait to find out what Clarke will say. You know she loves suspenders on you; you suspect she'll find it quite adorable on Samuel. 

 

//

 

“Happy birthday, Sam.”

“Clarke, look!”

Clarke barely gets a foot inside the car before Samuel wants to show her his new suspenders. He points to them with both index fingers, puffing out his chest.

“Oh wow, they're awesome. Are they new?”

“Uh, yes! They're big boy suspenders,” he explains. 

“I like them.”

Clarke winks at him before looking at you. You haven't seen her in three days and you've missed her terribly. Her, all of her, her bright blue eyes, her dimpled smile, her raspy voice, the touch of her hand, hugs, kisses. All of her. 

Kisses.

You lean in to steal a kiss from her lips.

She sighs. Or maybe it's you. Either way, three days are far too big a Clarke-less gap, you decide. You need to fix that. Soon. 

At least you have her for the weekend. You, Samuel and Clarke for a whole weekend. In this very moment, mom titles and worst case scenarios of Clarke leaving you and Samuel don't exist. 

Everything is grand. 

You're invincible. 

Clarke winks at you too. A whole different kind of wink. It makes you blush, for some reason. 

“Drive, Troublemaker. Or we're going to be late.” She looks from you to Samuel in the backseat, “I have to get to that delicious birthday cake Sam keeps talking about.”

“Drive, Mama!” Samuel squeals. 

A part of you knows the two of them will always join forces against you. The whole of you doesn't care at all; bring it, it says. The big smile on your lips agrees.

__________

#### CLARKE 

_I spy with my little eye_ is your new favorite game. For several reasons. The thoughtful “uuhhm” that escapes Samuel's lips while he searches the streets for something yellow is adorable as hell. The proud smile he sports as he sees the big yellow bus two cars ahead is, too. The soft half smile evidently stuck to Lexa's lips is a spectacular thing to witness. It seems to grow every time Samuel giggles. You know it's because she likes to watch the two of you interact. Truthfully, you don't even try hard; he's a great kid. His innocent light is a beacon in the dark. Next to his is Lexa's bright love. 

It's too soon, still, you can't help yourself thinking that you don't want to experience what life without them would be like. 

If Samuel considers you a mom substitute, well, you'll make sure to never disappoint him. It's an honor, and yes, a little bit scary, but nothing good ever came out of running from your fears. Lexa taught you that. The truth is, he makes you feel safe, so if it's alright with Lexa you'll do your best to keep Samuel safe, too. With or without the substitute mom title. 

“You okay?” Lexa's hand on your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts. 

You lift her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Tremendous,” you say, earning a soft chuckle. It's Lexa's word, you borrowed it, it's perfect for the task of expressing that yes, you are in fact okay. Great, even. And a little bit in love with this potential little family of yours. 

“We're here,” she says as she pulls to a halt. 

Mama Blake's house is beautiful. Not extravagantly so, but in a simple, charming way. The warm yellow-almost-orange against the white window panes makes you wonder if Mama Blake is as vibrant and positive as her house. She probably is; she raised three kids who turned out pretty great. On her own. You gotta have quite a colorful mindset to achieve that, you presume. 

Your dad would've loved this house.

Lexa smiles when you tell her. 

As you exit the car, a black-haired woman with a bright smile opens the front door. “Happy birthday, Sam,” she yells, and yes, you were right about her colorfulness. 

“Grandma!” Samuel yells back, running to hug her legs. 

“Don't be nervous,” Lexa whispers as her hand finds yours. 

“I'm not,” you say. It's not true. You are in fact a little nervous, and Lexa's playful smirk tells you she knows. 

Mama Blake greets Lexa in a warm hug. “You must be Clarke,” she smiles, pulling you into her arms. 

Her posture – light and energetic – reminds you of Octavia, and the familiarity alone makes your nervousness evaporate. “I am. Nice to meet you, Aurora.”

“You can call me Mama Blake if you'd like. Everyone does,” she says. 

“Even Rae,” Lexa adds when you look at her.

It turns out Mama Blake is a substitute mom of sorts for everyone who isn't her biological children. Upon entering the vibrant house, you find Octavia and Raven both sniffing the cakes on the set dining table. Mama Blake sighs out a “what did I just tell you two” resulting in two overly innocent smiles tiptoeing away from the cakes. Lincoln and Bellamy adopt a mocking laughter. They receive a punch to their shoulder from Octavia and another mom sigh from Mama Blake. 

“This one,” Mama Blake says, pointing to Lexa, “she's the adult one, if you didn't realize it already.”

“Believe you me, I noticed,” you grin at her.

The cakes are divinity and sin in one perfect mix. Well, three perfect mixes. There's a chocolate cake, a strawberry cake and an apple pie – each and every one of them a masterpiece of baked goods. You agree with Samuel; the chocolate cake is definitely _the best_. 

This house holds so much love. It feels like one big family, and it surprises you how well you fit into it. When Samuel opens his presents, you realize just how much the love in this house is worth. He doesn't get fancy, expensive things. He gets only a few things and they're all delivered with an explanation. There's a soccer ball, “because a six-year-old needs his own soccer ball,” Octavia explains. There's a new blue shirt, “because you look taller in blue,” Bellamy explains with a wink. There are a pair of sunglasses from Raven, “because girls dig cool shades,” she says, receiving giggles from Samuel. 

It turns out all the presents are from everyone. There's definitely a story behind, but you don't know it. Not yet. You make a mental note to scold Lexa later for not telling you. 

When he opens the present from you – a children's animal encyclopedia – he immediately begins to shuffle through the pages. “Maybe you can teach _me_ something cool about animals now,” you tell him and he grins at you.

“I thought it was a brilliant idea. That's why I didn't tell you about the present tradition,” Lexa leans in to whisper. “So stop worrying.”

“I'm not worrying,” you whisper back, but her half smile tells you she knows you are.

She kisses you, just a quick peck on your lips. It's more innocent than it has to be, even in these surroundings, but it doesn't stop Octavia from being Octavia. 

“Rae, they're doing it again.”

You and Lexa share an exasperated look as Raven and Octavia shares a high five. There's another mom sigh from Mama Blake. 

Then someone knocks on the door and Mama Blake yells, “It's open, come on in!” Seconds later, Anya appears in the doorway, a humble smile on her lips. 

“Anya!” Mama Blake jumps from her chair to pull the fierce woman into another one of her warm hugs. “How are you?”

“I'm alright, Mama Blake,” she says. 

You watch Anya and Lexa lock eyes. Lexa nods and Anya steps into the room. “I'm glad you could make it,” Lexa says. 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” Anya looks at Samuel and smiles. “Happy birthday, Sam. I know we don't know each other that well, but I still think you deserve a present.”

She hands Samuel a small present and he takes it carefully as if afraid to break it. “Thank you,” he whispers as he finds a corner of the wrapping paper to pull at. Slowly. Meticulously. 

“You didn't have to,” Lexa says. 

“I know, but I wanted to,” Anya says, taking the empty seat next to Bellamy. 

“Cooool,” Samuel whispers, as he holds up the tiny airplane model from Anya. 

It looks a lot like those planes you and Samuel were looking at the other day. He moves it slowly through the air, grinning from ear to ear. Perhaps Aero-Dog could be the field in which Anya will reunite with Samuel. You'd like to think so. It's obvious that Anya loves him. It's obvious that Lexa feels guilty for causing the distance between them. As long as Lexa will learn to forgive herself, you’re sure they’ll be fine.

__________

#### ANYA

It’s an odd sensation to sit here surrounded by people you used to call family and not having seen them for almost two years. Costia called them family and Lexa made sure you became a part of that family too. When Lexa stopped talking to you, you lost almost all of them. A part of you wanted to fight against Lexa’s stubbornness, but you knew it wouldn’t matter. You lost your best friend, but she lost her wife and the mother to her child. No matter how hard it was for you, it was infinitely harder for her. 

The hardest part was not being able to see Samuel. He looks so much like Costia. Not being able to see him made you miss her even more. Costia made you promise to watch out for the both of them. While you knew he was in good hands with Lexa and the Blakes, you still felt bad because you had to go back on your promise to Costia. It hasn’t been easy. You owe Bellamy for sticking with you. Keeping it from Lexa wasn’t easy for him, and you told him it was a terrible idea, but he insisted. You and him, you need each other, he said. He was right. 

Still, through all of this, these people right here, they still feel like family. 

Lexa’s long silent treatment still sits in your body as a painful blow, but now she’s reached out to you, you’ll be damned if you let that opportunity slip by you. You can be the better woman. You don’t hold grudges against Costia’s family. That’s the deal. Seeing Lexa happy and smiling again, makes it worth it. Clarke seems good for her. For Samuel, too. 

As everyone escapes into the backyard for a bit of soccer, you take the opportunity to speak with Clarke privately. There are a few things you need to get off your chest in terms of your connection with Finn.

“So, Clarke…” You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You need to deliver this correctly as to not make matters worse.

“So, Anya,” she copies, smiling. “Am I getting the real talk this time? Detailed threats and all?”

“Not quite,” you smirk. You like her. She’s not scared of you. People usually are. Even Lexa flinched when you stared her down. “After the concert, I talked to Finn and he told me about your past,” you say.

She frowns a little. Confusion, you guess. Perhaps uncomfortableness.

“I assume you don’t like to talk about him, just… hear me out. You don’t need to say anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods.

“I didn’t know he knew you. After the concert he told me you used to date and it didn’t end that well. He conveniently left out what he did to you and Rae. Lexa filled me in. I just… I want you to know that I’m terribly sorry for bringing him to the concert. I won’t let that happen again. Did Lexa tell you what I do?”

“Yes,” she says, clearly trying to hold back emotions.

“Okay, so you know my duty is to help these guys with whatever struggles war gave them. I’m still mentoring Finn, but because he’s connected in a bad way to people I hold very dear, I won’t be mentoring him for long. As soon as I find him a new mentor, I’m off his case, alright? I want you to know that.”

This conversation feels a lot more heavy than it should. You and Clarke don’t know each other well enough for something like this. It’s very simple, though. Your need to keep Lexa safe automatically extends to Clarke as well.

“I think that would make Lexa happy,” she says.

“It will. Lexa doesn’t want him near any of you. I don’t blame her. What about you? Will it make you happy?”

“Could you skip him off to another city?” She smiles sadly.

“I suppose… If he goes willingly.” You try to humor it a little, a playful shrug of your shoulders, that sort.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she grumples. “Listen, Anya. I appreciate what you’re doing, coming to talk to me. I don’t like him being in this city, but I’ve got my people here.” 

She looks out the window and you follow her line of sight onto the soccer play in action in the backyard. They’re your people too. Which means Clarke is your people. 

“I’ll manage,” she says, an afterthought.

“If you need anything….” You look at her.

“I know,” she smiles. 

You nod, deciding it’s time to catch Raven for your next one-on-one.

“Anya?” Clark calls as you’re halfway through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for not giving up on Lexa.”

A melancholic smile is all you’re able to muster. You and Lexa still have a hard road to travel, but there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll get there. 

The soccer play breaks up as you enter the backyard. Whatever team Samuel was on won, and by the way Octavia runs a victory round with him, you suspect she was on his team. 

You catch Raven’s eyes across the lawn; they always held an emotional battlefield even when she’s smiling. She’s good at hiding it, even from Octavia. Not from you, though. Learning about her past with Finn, it all makes sense now. The trust issues, her self doubt. Her running when you got too close. It all makes sense. She’s definitely struggling with Finn being here. Perhaps even more than Clarke is. That’s what you see in those eyes across the lawn.

Those eyes.

They hold your heart too, but you never got a chance to tell her. Costia died and turned everything upside down.

“Can we talk?” You approach her.

“Of course,” she says, her eyes a mix of confusion and curiosity. 

You throw a thumb towards the house, suggesting a private conversation inside. She nods and follows you. You walk past Clarke who’s now joined everyone in the backyard. You overhear her saying she refuses to do any activity that involves running. You know she means soccer, but it makes you smile thinking she’s not running from Finn anymore either. 

Once inside the house, you face Raven. You wonder if the others don’t see it, the aura of vulnerability that suffocates her. The way she looks at you, the brown vibrating in her eyes, you miss the warmth in them so badly. 

“How are you holding up?” You ask.

“Been better,” she sighs. She shrugs off your concern, but at least she's honest. 

“Look, Rae, I…” You pause. She's literally the only person you've ever been scared of talking to. As if every single spoken word holds more meaning than all books ever written combined. 

She raises an eyebrow at you, taunting you for being a stuttering mess. You smirk at her; she's the only one allowed to sass you and she knows it. 

You take a deep breath before starting the same explanation you gave Clarke earlier. You can tell by the way she avoids your eyes and folds her arms across her chest that every new sentence about Finn hurts her. 

“Rae, I–”

“–I'm okay.

“You're not okay.” 

“I can't d–” She interrupts herself, inhaling sharply. 

She takes a step forward to go around you, but you can't stand to watch her deal with all of this alone, so you stop her, pulling her into a hug. She fights you, pushing against your chest, but you're done letting her walk away. 

“No!” You tell her.

“Anya, I can't… Please,” she begs, nearly hyperventilating.

“I'm not letting you go, Rae,” you insist. 

She's still squirming in your arms, but not for long. “You won't get rid of me this time,” you whisper, and she finally relaxes against you, her forehead against your shoulder, her hands clinging to your shirt. 

“I won't let you go,” you repeat as her tears soak your shirt. 

Even when her breath finally settles back into a steady rhythm, you refuse to let her go. She pushes against you again, but you keep your arms locked tight around her. 

“Anya,” she huffs. 

“No.”

“Why are you doing this,” she whispers. 

“I _see_ you, Rae.” You release your grip, but only enough for her to find your eyes. “I should've done this a long time ago.”

A fresh tear trickles down her cheek. You release your grip entirely to brush it away. She's free to go, you said what needed to be said, but she stays. She nods. Her eyes flutter shut before she relaxes back into you. 

“Finn is done hurting you,” you say. 

“Okay,” she mumbles into your shirt.

“I've missed you,” you whispers. 

“Me too,” she whispers back.

__________

#### LEXA

With a hand on the door handle, you mentally scold yourself for not walking away. The view in front of you seems too intimate to be shared with anyone, yet, your feet are glued in place. 

Anya comforting Raven. 

It breaks your heart in _so many ways_. It hurts to see Raven like this. Maybe Clarke was right, maybe she _does_ struggle more than she lets on. It's unbearable to watch because you know Anya and Raven haven't seen each other for a long, long time. This. It's… it looks like a very emotional reunion by two people who need each other badly. Perhaps even more than you need Clarke. 

Anya doesn't hug people like this, like… she sacrifices her own entire being for someone else. Not even Costia. The way Anya let's Raven fight her without allowing her to walk. Because she _knows_.

Raven giving in is… 

Jesus christ… What the hell have you done. 

You stumble backwards, drowning in guilt. It's your fault they need to have a reunion. You don't deserve their forgiveness. 

“Hey, you okay?”

You turn around to meet Clarke's concerned eyes. You don't deserve the calm you always find there. 

Early tears sting your eyes. 

“Lex, talk to me.”

“I don't deserve any of this,” you hear yourself say. The words scratch your throat and presses against the tears. 

You watch her feet step closer, you feel her hands brush along your arms until they find your cheeks. “You deserve the world,” she whispers. The kiss she presses against your forehead pushes against your tears, too. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“Anya and Rae… I’m…” Words don't come together like they should, so you squeeze your eyes tight to better focus. 

“Hey, Lex, you don't have to, okay? Come here,” she says pulling you into a hug, one hand cradling your head against the crook of her neck, the other rubbing circles on your back. 

You don't deserve this. 

Your traitorous body relaxes against Clarke. 

“It's okay,” she repeats. “I love you. You deserve the world.” she whispers, pushing the tears back where they came from. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper.

“Tell me about it later,” she says as if she knows that your apology is directed to more people than just her. “Let's go back to the others. Sam might know a joke or two to cheer you up.”

A pair of playful eyes meet you as you straighten up. “I can tell you one right now, if you want,” the smirky lips say. 

“Please, no,” you sigh. 

“You sure?” A mischievous smile asks. “I know a good one. What do you c–”

Interrupting her with a kiss seems the best way to approach this. Clarke's raspy chuckling spills from her lips onto yours and you so don't deserve the joy that spreads through your veins, but you're addicted to it, you couldn't say no even if you wanted to. 

“Thank you,” you mumble against her kisses. 

“For what?” Her lips stop moving. 

“For bringing me back.” You let her kiss beautiful things into your heart. 

“Of course, Lex. You'd do it for me too,” she says between kisses. 

She's right. You would. You try your best to kiss love into her lungs, too. 

“Come on, let's go play soccer with your kid,” she sighs. 

The eyebrow you raise in disbelief earns you a punch to your shoulder. Even though you dramatically pretend it’s painful, it actually did sting a little. 

“Wuss,” she coughs into her hand. 

No one calls you a wuss – not even as a joke – without there being consequences. She sees it in your eyes, so she starts running, but she's no match to your speed. You time it perfectly. You tackle her in front of Samuel, making sure to take the fall for the both of you. Leaving no time for her to retaliate, you straddle her to better control the tickle attack. 

Her shrieking laughter is adorable; the desperate “Lex, stop, LEXA!” is too. 

“Take it back, Clarke,” you say between waves of tickle attacks. The smirk on your lips feels powerful. 

“No. Never!” She defies. 

Somewhere between struggling against your hands and the shrieking she manages to yell for SuperBoy’s help. Merely seconds later, Samuel hangs around your neck, and you know you'll be losing this battle. You make a valiant effort to keep your dignity intact. 

It's not enough. 

“Tickle Monster, let her go!” Samuel booms. 

“I will not!” You play along. 

“Will too,” he argues.

“Maybe I should tickle you instead, SuperBoy!” 

You twist to pull him off your back, but as he leans against you, you pretend to lose your balance. Up is down before you know it. Someone is holding you down while someone is tickling you, and you let them. 

You will always let them. 

You'll get Clarke back later. 

It is a peculiar feeling – desperately wanting them to stop the tickle attack while also wanting them to never let go. 

Someone pleads for them to stop. It sounds like you, but you refuse to admit it. They high-five on a job well done, and Clarke leans down to whisper obscenities in your ear before letting you go. 

“Wuss.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Clarke!” You yell at her, still trying to catch your breath, your numb limbs still splayed out around you in the grass. The mix of Clarke and Samuel’s conspiratorial giggles is by far your favorite sound. 

“Stop whining, loser, let's play,” Octavia yells, kicking the ball – unnecessarily hard, might you add – into your thigh.

You sigh. Whatever’s left of your dignity will be squashed by another round of soccer and there's nothing you can do about it. 

Oh well.

 

//

 

It's getting chilly and people are getting hungry, so they go back inside. You seize the opportunity to catch Raven for a talk. This guilt keeps growing by every minute you don't apologize, and you hope she'll forgive you for not waiting till another day, one that isn't colored by Samuel's birthday and what you witnessed through the window.

“I want to apologize to you, Rae. I didn't realize me putting Anya on ice was hurting you.”

She frowns, starts walking slowly back into the backyard. You follow her, holding your breath. She looks like she's thinking, considering her words. 

“Where's this coming from?” She isn't contradicting you. 

“I went to get something to drink and saw you and Anya inside,” you admit. 

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “You're not the cause of my pain, Lexa.”

“I feel like I've been keeping you two apart.”

“I'm not gonna lie,” she says. She stops to look at you. “It hasn't been easy, but it's not on you, Lexa. You had nothing to do with it. It was entirely me. I wasn't ready. I…” Her eyes drop to her feet. “I'm still not ready.”

Raven always had this melancholy about her. You thought it was just her thing, a result of her admiring all things beautiful, even the devastating kind. You thought it was part of her artistic grandness. The truth is there in her eyes, though. She's terrified of being hurt and left behind again. You don't blame her. God, you want to punch Finn’s stupid face for doing this to her. The psychological damage he caused Raven might even be worse than what he did to Clarke. You're suddenly grateful that Clarke let you in. You're not the right person to help Raven, but Anya is, you're sure of it. 

“You don't have to be,” you tell Raven. “Anya will wait for you.”

“I know,” she sighs. “She's hard to get rid of.”

“Relentless,” you agree, sharing a smile with Raven. You already feel lighter. “Are we cool, Rae?”

“Of course, Lexa. I told you, you're not to blame.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Tell you what. We’re cool as long as you allow me and Clarke to come in and punch at things in your gym.”

“Anytime.”


	24. After The Rain Comes The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This is it. Last chapter. It's been a crazy ride and I'm so grateful for all of you who decided to join me. I'm as always melancholic about ending a story... but it had to happen eventually.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and commenting and sending all your love <3 
> 
> (And an extra personal thank you to those of you loving Samuel - it's not often people like original characters in fanfic). 
> 
> I don't know what else to say. Just that I hope you enjoy this final piece of Them Troublemakers. It holds a special place in my heart <3
> 
> It's not goodbye. Come say hi on Tumblr (anonbemetoo) or Twitter (anonbeme). And if you're into a little magic, I already posted first chapter of my new fic My Soul Alight :) 
> 
> I'll stop rambling and let you get to the story. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

#### LEXA 

After a bedtime story, Samuel sound asleep, you find Clarke glued to your living room window staring out upon the rain. You catch her reflection, she's grinning like an idiot. 

You feel blessed because tonight is Thursday and not usually a Clarke day, but she missed you and you love her, and she’s here. The more Clarke days a week the better. That's your new motto. 

“Your girlfriend is weird,” Bellamy shares from the couch, his eyes glued to the TV. 

“Is it true? Is my girlfriend weird?” You ask Clarke, walking up behind her to wrap your arms around her. 

“Not the slightest,” she grins. She abruptly spins in your arms, her eyes sparkling with great plans. “Come outside with me?”

Clarke is a madwoman. 

It's _raining_. 

The evidence is clearly there trailing down your window. Your first instinct is to decline, uncompromisingly so, but then she looks at you not unlike Samuel on christmas morning. You hesitate, and it's apparently close enough to the answer Clarke is looking for, because you find yourself being dragged towards your main door by a very excited Clarke. 

She commands you to put on shoes and denies you your raincoat. You don't have a say. 

Not a minute later, Clarke pulls you into the rain. It's surprisingly soft against your skin, but it settles heavily in your hair and the fabric of your clothes. Feeling like an utter fool, you watch her run deeper into the wet onslaught, arms spread out as she spins around and around. 

“What are you doing, Clarke?” You call out. 

You watch as she stops to look at you. She closes her eyes and directs her smile upwards, it seems to widen for every raindrop landing on her face. “I love the rain,” she calls back. “Join me, Troublemaker!”

Clarke is definitely a madwoman. She's _your_ madwoman who's currently looking at you with seductive eyes and curling a come-hither finger at you. Just like that first time in the bar when she summoned you onto the dance floor. You can't say no. 

Her lips taste of rain, refreshing and cool. The palms of her hands are surprisingly warm against your cheek and your neck. She kisses life into your lungs. Defying this force of nature feels exhilarating. It feels… You think, perhaps, Clarke has infected you with whatever disease she must have.

Kissing Clarke in the rain is your new favorite thing. 

It picks up, heavy raindrops crashing against your skull. They're colder, more persistent. “Clarke,” you mumble and she swallows the premature soundwaves before they spill from your lips. You try again only to fail once more. Someone shivers, there's no way to tell who it is, but it breaks your kiss. 

Her eyes shimmer like raindrops catching sunlight, a marvelous contrast against the gloomy clouds. 

You're out of breath. 

She kisses you once more before pulling you back inside. “What now, weirdo,” you ask her as the door closes behind you. She says nothing, her eyes a mischievous shade of blue as she pulls you to the bathroom. 

“Strip,” she says, then goes to turn on the shower. 

You find you're not able to move as she drops her own wet clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor. She catches you staring. She smirks as she flings her bra at you, and she chuckles as it bounces off your face. You still don't move. 

Clarke Griffin stands before you, in all her naked glory, raindrops still clinging to her hair. It's a beautiful sight, one you're pretty sure you'll never forget. 

“Need help?” She husks, seduction and mockery all at once. 

“Uh, maybe,” you hear yourself say. 

She swaggers up to you, all lip-biting and hip-swaying, only to whisper in your ear. “How about this. You can stay out here in your… wet clothes,” she says, empathizing the word _wet_ . The innuendo isn't lost on you. “ _Or_ , you can join me in the shower.” She nips at your earlobe, then whispers, “I _could_ use a little help with the soap.”

It isn't until she steps into the shower that your mind picks up. All your wet clothes are peeled off in record time, left on the bathroom floor somewhere along Clarke's. 

Kissing Clarke in the shower is your _new_ , new favorite thing. It beats the rain, but only because the water is nice and warm, and Clarke is naked. 

A naked Clarke makes things a lot better, actually. Your bed, for instance. A naked Clarke in your bed makes for less sleep, yes, but it's so worth it. Tonight you're on a mission. You’re going to map every inch of Clarke’s skin with your fingertips, explore undiscovered territory, find new ways to make her gasp your name. 

You're not in a hurry. Your bed was cold and way too big for just one person on yesterday's Clarke-less night, so this thorough journey along soft skin is to make up for it. Hopefully – however naive it may be – your fingertips will remember the path of their hike so your next lonesome night will be easier to get through. 

“Lex,” Clarke breathes. 

“Mhm?” Your fingers map the valleys and hills of her ribcage. They take note of how it rises and falls with her breathing, and how it freezes when you find her ticklish spot. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, continuing towards her hipbones. 

She shifts to a sitting position, you still straddling her thighs. Your fingertips take advantage of it and begins their journey along her back, up her spine, circling her shoulder blades. 

Even in the darkened room, the shimmer of her eyes blinds you. Her fingertips copy yours, dancing on your thighs and up your stomach. She wraps her arms around your torso pulling you closer for a kiss. You feel the rise and fall of her ribcage against yours; it becomes heavier, more desperate the longer you kiss her. 

Clarke's tongue seems to be on some sort of mission too. It brings your own breath to match Clarke's. She grabs your neck to pull you back onto the sheets, your thigh finding that spot between hers. 

It wasn't the plan, but Clarke gasps your name in a new way, and that's enough reason for you to deviate from the original mission. You want to explore this. Grinding against her thigh earns you teeth pulling at your lips. Her hands find your ass, pressing you harder against her. The synchronicity intensifies _everything_. 

Your hands are occupied, one gripping her hip, the other supporting your weight, but your lips are very much capable of continuing the journey of your original mission. They travel along her jaw and down her neck, her blood throbs against your tongue, and– 

There's a clicking noise and Clarke freezes under you. 

“Mama?” Samuel's voice is scared and fragile. 

As his footsteps approach you, you whisper an apology to Clarke before rolling over to lie between her and the incoming six-year-old. It’s a race against time to make sure Clarke is comfortably hiding her nakedness under your duvet before Samuel jumps onto the bed.

“You okay, Sam?” You ask him although you know what’s coming next. You still haven’t caught your breath.

“Night monsters,” he whispers.

“And the lamp doesn’t work?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay, come on,” you lift the duvet for him to take his position as little spoon. His sniffling subsides as soon as he’s safely tucked under your magical sheets.

You feel awfully conflicted. The mother in you doesn’t care at all about her own sweaty nakedness, only that Samuel feels safe. This new version of you, however, the one being Clarke’s girlfriend who can’t keep her hands to herself when Clarke is naked, she still pictures _very_ recent sinful bed activities and curses Samuel’s terrible timing. 

As Clarke shifts closer to you, her naked front pressing against your back, her lips pressing softly against your neck, you vow to make it up to her. Perhaps Bellamy could be persuaded into having another Boys’ Breakfast with Samuel soon. 

“Clarke?” You whisper.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back, and you believe her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

//

 

After the rain comes the sun. It's literal in the way this new day penetrates the blinds drawing golden stripes on your walls. The last bit of disappointment over last night’s interruption is washed away as you realize Samuel is still snuggled up to you, and so is Clarke. One on each side of you, both snoring a little. 

You wish to freeze time in this very moment, to stay here forever. All you need to be happy is right here. 

After the rain comes the sun. You think, perhaps, it's also true in the way these past couple of weeks have been without any Finn related drama. Clarke is blooming, bright and colorful, more and more each day. You love to witness this personal growth of hers. You love that she wants you and Samuel to be a part of it. You love how she no longer lets her past hold her down. She’s learning to accept the memories as something that stays in the past. You admire her for that. 

Your own storm has settled, too. It’s not easy to witness the memory of Costia fade from Samuel’s mind, but you don’t really remember your own parents either, so you understand how it works. Costia is beginning to fade from your own memories too. Not really fading, just… memories of Clarke seems to fill up your mind, not instead of, but next to Costia’s. The thing is, Clarke being your present shines a whole lot brighter than a past you no longer live. It’s a good thing. It means you’ve moved on and it means you’re able to give Samuel – yourself, too – a life that is no longer shaded by your loss. 

It makes for a good platform to build a life with Clarke; one that includes Samuel, of course. You haven’t had _the talk_ yet, the one where you define just how serious you are, but your gut tells you, that Clarke is where you are: you're in it with everything you have to offer. 

This moment right here, SuperBoy and SuperGirl surrounding you with body heat and peaceful snoring noises, seems to establish what your gut is already telling you.

Clarke isn't just your present, but your future, too. 

 

//

 

Sunshine days are few in October, so you make sure to take advantage of each and everyone of them. The ice cream man has closed the shop for the season, but the park is still good for a bit of soccer play, and Clarke has promised Samuel hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows in it when you get back home. 

Everyone is there, even Anya. It seems Raven has taught her the explosion fist bump greeting, it's great to see Samuel is finally warming up to her. There's still a lot of lost time to make up for, still a lot of cracks in your relationship to be mended, but you’re getting there, one step at a time. 

“When we were kids, Costia used to tell lame jokes too, did you know?” Anya says, taking a seat on the picnic table, still too important to sit on the bench. 

You didn't. Any jokes she ever told you were sophisticated ones, clever ones. 

“Are you saying it's hereditary?” You send her a smile, hoping it translates your thank you for sharing an unknown piece of Costia with you. 

“Seems like it.”

“Are you saying it gets worse?”

“Only time will tell.” Anya cracks a knowing smile before running off to join the soccer fun. 

“What's wrong with his jokes?” Clarke takes a seat next to you, a playful smile on her lips. 

“They're repetitive,” you deadpan. 

“My kisses are repetitive too. Do you want me to stop?” That mischievously innocent smirk is so typical Clarke. 

“I think, perhaps, it's best if you increase them,” you say, closing the gap between you. 

She hums into the kiss, and you decide you quite like kissing Clarke under the Autumn sun. 

“Mama, I gotta pee!” Samuel yells. 

Stealing one last quick kiss from Clarke, you get up to meet Samuel. 

The public restroom is just around the corner, and he knows the drill. You follow him there, he goes in by himself because he's a big boy now, he comes back out and shows you he has washed his hands. 

On the way back, a puppy – a golden retriever, maybe – comes running up to you. No sign of any owner, so you kneel to check its dog tag. Billie. A bell goes off somewhere in the back of your mind, but it isn't until you hear the voice, that you put two and two together.

“Billie, come here,” Finn calls. 

You look up to catch his eyes and he stops in his tracks. His eyes are already apologetic, still, your instinct is to keep him away from Samuel. 

You let go of the puppy, but it seems to have taken a liking in Samuel. He giggles as it licks his hands. 

“I'm sorry,” Finn says. “One second she was there, the other she was gone.” He walks cautiously towards you to put Billie back onto a leash. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Samuel asks, looking up at Finn. You can't tell if Samuel remembers him from the time he was the scary man in the park.

Finn looks at you for permission to respond. You nod. It's an innocent encounter and there's no reason to make it anything else. 

“It's a girl.”

“What's her name?”

“Billie.”

“Hey Billie,” Samuel whispers, as he pets her on the head. 

“See the way she wags her tail? She likes you,” Finn says, and Samuel grins back up at you.

Finn let's Samuel pet Billie for a little while. He looks at you and says, “Lexa, right?”

“Yes.”

“Listen… I know what I did was unforgivable, nothing will ever change that. And I know nobody wants me here.” He looks down at Billie, searching for his words. “Anya’s crew is amazing. They're able to help me more efficiently than my old therapist. It's the only reason I'm still here. I… I don't want to cause any trouble, alright? I just… Therapy, and Billie here… That's what's keeping me strong now.”

You nod. You understand, but you don't know what to say. 

“So… Yeah…” He shrugs. “I'm gonna go.” 

He whistles for Billie to follow him. It's a different Finn you see walking away this time, more rational, more put together. You wonder if he actually bought the dog for himself, and not for Clarke. Either way, you're grateful to see he's moving on. 

“Finn?” You call after him. 

“Yeah?” He looks at you. 

“Take care.”

He nods before picking up his pace again. 

On your way back to the others, Samuel swings your joined hands back and forth. He's too excited to walk normally, doing small running jumps every other step. You worry a little about how Clarke will react when you tell her about the run-in with Finn and Billie. You'll do it tonight, when Samuel is asleep.

Except, your plan changes when Samuel immediately runs to Clarke to tell her he met a dog named Billie.

__________

#### CLARKE

As soon as Samuel runs off to continue his game of soccer, you turn to face Lexa. Something in her eyes tells you that a dog named Billie is exactly the dog you're thinking it is. 

She walks up to you. Even the way she reaches for your hands is a cautious affair. 

“Finn?” You ask her.

She nods, dropping her eyes to your entwined hands. As she looks back up at you, she says, “I don't know how much of it you want to hear.”

All you really need to know is that he didn't cause any problems. It seems your mind has settled on the fact that he's here in the same town as you, and you can't do anything about it. You can choose to either beat yourself up over it, or move on with your life. In this instant you realize you haven't thought about Finn for a long time. It feels good. It feels like you're finally letting your past behind you. 

“You can tell me all of it,” you tell her. 

“A loose puppy came up to us, turns out Billie ran off on Finn. Billie seemed to like Sam quite a lot. Sam liked her too. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he starts pestering me for a dog soon…” She smiles. 

“You don't like dogs?” You know she does, you can see it in her eyes. 

“I do,” she sighs, “that's the problem. I'll give in.” 

Your favorite half smile lingers on her lips, and you lean in to kiss it. “Maybe we can get one together someday,” you blurt out. It implies a whole lot of things you haven't talked about yet. You hold your breath. 

“Maybe.” Her smile grows against your lips, easing the worry in your heart. It seems a natural thing to say, a reasonable thing to not linger by. 

“Did he… Was he nice to you?” You need to know. 

“Finn? Yeah, he was. He was apologetic. He said he doesn't want to cause any trouble and the only reason he's still here is because Anya's crew provides the help he needs.”

That's kind Finn. Always considerate of not overstepping his welcome. It's been a long time since you saw him. 

“What are you thinking?” Lexa’s voice is soft and warm. 

“I was thinking that I love you,” you smile, stepping closer to her. It's the conclusion, anyways. 

She raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I feel free,” you add. 

“You look free,” she hums. 

 

//

 

With Lexa's spare key in your pocket, you and Samuel walk along sidewalks hand in hand. 

“Do you like lasagna, Sam?”

“Uh, yes.” 

“Wanna help me make lasagna for when Mama comes home?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Awesome.” 

It's still unreal that Lexa trusts you to pick up Samuel from daycare. It's a big gesture, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make you nervous. She trusts you with the most precious thing she owns and you're terrified of not being able to own up to it. 

You may hold on to his hand a bit tighter than necessary. 

There's really no need. 

He tells you about his day, that he likes it when they learn about numbers. He also tells you a joke or two; you’ve heard them before, but the way he lights up when you laugh at them is worth the repetition. 

He's easy, and you're at Lexa's place before you know it. He brings out his animal encyclopedia and shows you his new discoveries. He asks you if turtles swim as fast as penguins, and you tell him that no, they're not as fast as penguins, but they do swim a lot faster than they walk. He gives you all of his attention and although you've only known him for a couple of months, it's clear to you he's growing fast. He absorbs new knowledge like a sponge, and it makes you realize that whatever you tell him, whatever you teach him, will stick with him. That's a big responsibility to suddenly have. Sea life creatures are innocent, but the way he looks up to you, it's important that you teach him positive things. 

The influence you have on Samuel is a much bigger responsibility than making sure he comes home from daycare safely. 

Samuel makes the process of making lasagna slow, but more fun. He listens while you tell him about the secret Griffin family recipe your dad taught you, and he helps making the layers. You place the lasagna in the oven, set the timer and give Samuel a high five for a job well done. 

“You're cooking?” Lexa says. The presence of her voice nearly gives you a heart attack. 

“Oh, hey. Didn't hear you come in.”

“Someone was too busy to notice,” she winks at you before addressing Samuel. “What are you cooking?”

“Secret lasagna,” Samuel says. 

“What makes it secret?” Lexa wants to know. 

“It's a secret,” you jump in, sharing a knowing smile with Samuel. 

“Huh, I see…” Lexa squints an eye, flicking between you and Samuel. “You two are up to something. I'm gonna find out,” she says. 

As Lexa steals a glance at the lasagna in the oven, you tell Samuel it's going to be a while before it's ready, so he's officially off duty. He runs to his room to do whatever six-year-olds do in their rooms. 

“Thank you,” Lexa says. She hooks a finger in your belt loop to pull you closer. 

“You're welcome.” You sigh as she finally kisses you. 

“You saved me today,” she says.

“Don't worry about it. We had fun.”

“Yeah? He didn't cause any trouble?”

“Not at all.” 

Lexa uses your belt loops to pull you into another kiss. Her arms wrap around your waist and you rest yours around her neck. “I could get used to this,” she mumbles into a kiss. 

“What?”

“This. Coming home to you and Sam cooking for me.”

“Don't get used to it.” You try to kiss her playful smile off her lips, but to no avail. It widens. 

“You really didn't have to,” she says, back to serious, apologetic Lexa.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

 

//

 

It’s sudden when Lexa comes storming through her bedroom door, closing it shut behind her with an incredible force. It amazes you she's capable of doing so in such a silent manner. Without losing momentum, she runs towards you, and you don't have time to respond before her fingers slide into your hair and lips lock onto yours. 

“I love you,” she says, as if she's running out of time. “I love you,” she repeats. “I love you.”

Her kisses are urgent. She rids you of your clothes in a desperate pace. The force with which she pins you against the mattress steals your breath away. You know Lexa as a meticulous lover, soft and intense, but tonight she’s different. She’s a hurricane, lifting you off the ground. She’s an adrenaline rush, and you latch onto her anticipating _one hell of a ride_. 

Breaking the kiss, she holds you with her eyes, and it seems the green in them has never been this vibrant before. Any word you were ever able to speak has been sucked from your lungs. 

“You made me lasagna,” she says, out of breath and nearly growl. “Bellamy isn't home, and I refuse to let any night monster interrupt us tonight.”

You want to laugh at the absurdity, but there's a fire in her eyes you haven't seen before, and it's rendering you incapable of any other bodily function except… just lie there and love her. 

You don't get a chance to gather yourself before Lexa melts into you once more, igniting a flame within you as she does so. 

No coherent thought after this. 

No night monsters tonight. 

Barely any sleep.

Just Lexa. 

Everywhere.

__________

#### LEXA

The first thing you do is let Clarke wrap her arms around you. The next thing you do is bury your nose in her hair. You feel home. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes. I am now,” you say, melting into Clarke’s arms. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

It’s been three days. Three long, horrible days. 

The anniversary of Costia’s death is something you tried really hard to prepare for. You thought having Clarke by your side this time would make it hurt less. It did, to some extend, but you don’t have a manual for these things, and you needed to make sure Samuel was okay. Last year, you needed Bellamy to take care of Samuel while you mended your broken heart. This year you had to make sure you could do it yourself. You told Clarke you needed a few days to deal with it, she kissed you and told you she was proud of you, and then you went home to take care of you and Samuel.

You went to Costia’s grave. You and Samuel. Hand in hand. He had his Superman T-shirt on underneath his raincoat and the tiny airplane model he got from Anya in his hand. You stood there under somber skies, your tears camouflaged by November rain. Samuel told his mom about trips to the zoo, pancake mornings and the new jokes Clarke has taught him. 

He told his mom about Clarke. 

He didn’t cry.

He was proud. 

Any fear you had about not being able to go through this day vanished. The kid you’re supposed to raise into a sensible young man was teaching you an important lesson in life.

If he can remember his mom with a smile, then so should you. 

If he has room for both his mom and Clarke, then you should be able to, too.

These past three days have been… You’ve been thinking a lot. About what's important in life. About Samuel. About Clarke. About a plural you. About how you don't want to waste any more precious time. 

You have something for Clarke. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.”

There are a lot of things you want to tell her, but her eyes shimmer, so you kiss her first. It's one of those kisses that makes you forget what you were about to say, and Clarke looks at you with concern. 

You take a deep breath.

“Thank you for giving me time to deal with this,” you say. 

“Of course,” she says. “Anything you need.”

“I've done a lot of thinking. I've spent a lot of energy lately to keep a healthy balance between us and Samuel. The two nights a week rule… I hate it, Clarke. I hate that I want to see you and you want to see me and we aren't seeing each other because I think it's better for Samuel.”

“Hey,” Clarke says. She cups your cheeks with her warm, soft hands, and you lean into them. “It's important to me that Samuel feels comfortable, Lex. So we'll figure this out, alright?”

“He told Costia about you.”

“He did?”

“Mhm. He doesn’t know how to voice it, but I can tell he misses you when you’re not there. And… what I’m trying to say is that I’m so done with that stupid rule. And I’m done wasting time. And I want more of you. And…”

Clarke’s soft smile reels you off whatever trail you were on. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, go on,” she smiles.

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

It only now dawns on you that you're standing in the employee parking lot behind the zoo having a pretty serious talk about the future – or you're about to, you're not sure where to draw the line. 

“You have…” You reach up to remove a straw of something grass-like out of her hair. 

“Oh,” she chuckles. “I helped a baby giraffe into the world today.” 

You kiss her. You can't help yourself. You love the way Clarke brightens up when she talks about her job. 

“Lexa,” she laughs against your lips. 

“What, Clarke?”

“Finish your speech,” she says, playfully pushing against your shoulder. 

“My speech?”

“Yeah, you were talking about wanting more of me and bending rules and you kind of left me hanging there.”

“Oh, well, is that something you want?”

“What, more of me?”

“Well, more of _me_.”

Bright blue eyes and soft dimples nod an eager yes.

“In that case, I have something for you.” You reach into your pocket and pull out a keyring. It's one of the Madagascar penguins. Samuel chose it. 

“Is that…” Clarke looks at it with wide eyes.

“It’s a key, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes at you. 

“I talked to Bellamy, and he says you're more than welcome to stay over anytime you want. Luckily, Sam and I want that too.”

“You're giving me a key to your apartment?” She says, completely ignoring your attempt at being funny. 

“If you want it.”

“I… Really?”

“Yes. I want a future with you, Clarke. This is a tiny step. I know it's a big deal. I'm not asking you to move in, but I want you in my life, and I'd love it if you would want to come by more often. Samuel would too.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you're afraid it'll break through your skin. You thought so hard about finally moving your life forwards that you completely forgot to consider that Clarke might not want the key. 

She smirks at you, then takes the key. “Why the little chubby one?”

“The _bossy_ one.” 

It earns you another push against your shoulder. 

“Does that mean you want the key?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Troublemaker. I would love to come over more often,” she grins. 

The zoo parking lot seems like the perfect spot to be making out with your girlfriend who now has a key to your apartment. 

“Oh, another thing.” You break the kiss and Clarke pouts. “I also told Bellamy I'll be moving out as soon as I find a place for me and Sam.”

“Lex… Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don't need Bellamy to fix me anymore. Sam and I are ready to move on.”

Clarke nods, then smiles, then kisses you again. 

“We need to pick up Sam,” you say between kisses. 

“Let's go, then,” she says, still kissing you. 

“I'm trying,” you say, but you're only trying a little bit because you’ve missed Clarke a lot and you have a lot of kissing to catch up on. 

“I love you,” she says, breaking the kiss. 

“I love you too,” you sigh. 

“Come on, Troublemaker. Take me to Sam.”

“Mh, _definitely_ the bossy one.”

You let her push against your shoulder one more time before opening the car door for her. “At your service,” you bow. 

“That's more like it,” she smirks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Any comments or thoughts you may have, gimme :)  
> You can also find me on twitter (@anonbeme) and tumblr (@anonbemetoo)


End file.
